Beautiful Insanity
by Sizzia
Summary: Insanity is a simple word really, but for Roy Earle it meant his life was about to come crashing down when he was assigned to witness protection for a girl that hates him and everything about him. Takes place after the Vice desk in the game and will integrate with the storyline of the game.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: So after playing LA Noire for the second time now as I got it on the PC, I really had this strong urge to write this story about Roy. He is an asshole and I love to hate him. I hope you guys will like it. I also want to thank my awesome beta, **MrsBates93** for being lovely and helping me with this story and summary._

_Leave a review if you like it, would love to hear your thoughts as they as well serve as a huge inspiration source and courage boost and will make me write faster!_

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"You've got to be kidding me, captain!"

"Do I look like a guy that makes jokes?" Lazarus Cafarelli said briskly, glaring at Roy.

"And do I look like a guy that spends his time holding a woman's hand just because she witnessed a murder?"

"Damn it Roy! This is Jack Dragna, we finally have something to bring his ass down. After the scandal with Phelps, this is the case of the year for us. You got him removed from here, the evidence went with him and without this witness to testify we have jack shit! And since you got Golden boy demoted, yes, you will have to watch this woman and make sure she survives without a scratch to court or I will personally have your ass thrown out of here faster than you can blink!"

Roy gritted his teeth so hard that he could hear them grinding. "Phelps got what was coming to him. We needed a way out, and I provided it."

"_Not to mention that I would be out of a job and worse if the truth got out about the real scandal__," _Roy thought to himself.

Cafarelli laughed bitterly, "And you're telling me that you gained nothing out of this? I don't condone what Phelps did, but he was the best damned detective this department had for years. So just put a stick up your ass and deal with it." The captain stopped for a second, "oh and, Roy. Do not in any circumstances be violent with her. She witnessed a fucking murder only two days ago. Do anything to jeopardize this-"

"-I will lick the bottoms of my shoes, I get it, _captain._" He bit out the last part harshly making his captain tighten his lips.

"Good," Cafarelli spat, eyeing the Chief detective cautiously.

Roy watched as the captain walked out of his office, slamming the door so hard that the papers on his desk flew to the floor. Cafarelli had come personally to the Hollywood police station, to get Roy on this case, when usually it got run by the lieutenant first, and sadly Cafarelli wasn't a part of the corruption even if he knew about it. Why did he get punished for outing Cole? It wasn't like he would eventually have it coming to him. It felt good to know the shining bright future of the LAPD was not as fucking perfect as he would have people believe.

While Cole was one of the few that could put up with his banter, and even when he didn't condone Roy's methods – most of the time – he was still a damn good partner. Even if he reluctantly liked Cole as a detective, and as a partner, he liked himself better. He got Cole transferred to Ad Vice to keep an eye on him, to make sure he wouldn't rub his nose the wrong way and of course to reflect in the 'basked glory' as he once put it to Cole when he had first met him. It had all backfired now that Cole had sniffed out the bigger corruption when he got demoted to Arson. It was not over yet though, as Monroe contacted him, given that now Roy worked as his 'hired help' for a very nice extra payroll on the side, to make sure Cole would back off. How the hell would he have time to do that now?

He lazily picked up the papers and put them on his desk before heading to the waiting room where the broad was waiting. He had not been to the crime scene; he had just got the information handed to him by the captain. Morphine syrettes had been found but they had not been the cause of death. The girl Lisa Philips, 23 had been strangled whilst under the influence of drugs, and her friend Emma Brent, 21 had seen it all from her hiding place in the closet. When the captain told him, that he was on witness protection duty, he had really thought that he was joking. This was not part of his job.

The case was due in court in two weeks, and he was not going to work on any other cases other than protecting this girl until she was due to appear in court. Her testimony could bring Jack Dragna and his lackeys down. Maybe not for the drugs, but definitely for murder. At least Mickey would be happy about getting Jack out of the way. Maybe Jack personally would not get convicted, but if his lackeys got locked up, it would be a step in the right direction. He knew Mickey well, he had had deals with him, and with other corrupted high standing people in the past. If he let the broad die or her not being able to testify, he would be fired – he took the Captain's threat seriously, knowing he probably had dirt on him somewhere, just saving it for a moment like this. And if he got fired he would not be on the inside anymore either to help his, so-to-speak friends.

This would only bring Jack and his circle down and would probably please Mickey in the process as he had wanted to throttle the guy for a very long time. Roy was not stupid enough to get involved between the two gangs, he actually liked his neck firmly attached to his head, but this was different he supposed. Finally reaching the conclusion that he would protect the girl and not let her 'accidentally' slip or let her die, he looked around the room for her. He had better get paid damn well for working around the clock now for these two weeks. If it was something Roy loved, it was money. It gave him a comfortable life, and he did like his work – perhaps not for the right reasons. He never claimed that he was an angel like Phelps had been.

There was a reason why he hadn't settled down to find a wife or have kids. Not only because the very thought made him shiver. He also didn't want liabilities or to care for someone. He did not do an honourable job, with his affiliations and contacts in the darker part of the city and he could not risk it. If he made the wrong moves, he would have people on his ass faster than he could say, "_S__on of a bitch_." Caring about others would mean he could not protect himself from it. And they would as a consequence get hurt. He was not a family man by any means, and liked his life as a single man with no ties even though it could bring somewhat lonely nights sometimes and others where he would spend the night with a girl he would not remember two days later.

He scanned the crowd of people and found the woman. There was an officer sitting next to her, talking quietly to her. He recognized the chump to be Rusty Galloway and a gleeful smirk graced his lips as he swaggered towards them. As he got closer he took the chance to glance at the girl sitting next to Rusty who was oblivious to his presence. He had to admit he was amazed by the fact she was not affected by Rusty's heavy odour of alcohol that emanated from him. Roy silently chuckled and lit a cigarette from his golden lighter, (a present from the Mickster when Roy had successfully kept the cops off of his back in the good old days) before making his presence known.

"Is he a nice man?" He could hear the girl ask Rusty.

"Earle? He is a jackass. He would sell out his own mother if he could make a profit out of it," Galloway grunted.

"Ouch, that _almost_ hurt my feelings." Earle smirked, which made the two of them turn their heads to face him.

He put the cigarette to his lips, inhaling it slowly for effect, and saw Rusty's eyes narrow to slits as he stood up to face Roy. "Come on, Galloway, don't tell me you're still pissed about Phelps?" he sighed as he took another smoke.

"You don't sell out fellow officers," Rusty replied.

"Well, he shouldn't have been slumming it with that German junkie then should he? What a betrayal to his country and family," he said the last phrase mockingly, daring Galloway to retort.

Rusty took a step forward and breathed in Roy's face, "You asshole."

"Ugh, Galloway, learn to brush your teeth. I think your breath is deadly," Roy said, emphasizing his words by waving his hand casually in front of his face.

"Lady, have fun with this one," Galloway said to the silent girl who was still sitting down, his face turning into a darker shade of purple as he walked away. Roy stared at him with a triumphant gleeful grin.

"Do you always have this much fun putting people down?" Roy swung his face quickly, surprised it was the girl saying this to him. She was actually glaring at him; _she had spunk, _he had to give her that_. _He snorted, "He is a drunk. It's not a big secret really." Usually he didn't let women talk to him like this, but he had a feeling the captain was serious with his threat. So he had to grind his teeth and just deal with it for the time being, resorting to his second weapon. His mouth.

She stood up slowly and was still looking at him with that intense stare, making him feel ridiculously angry. She had her golden blonde hair up in a bun and a pale yellow dress to go with it that had bare arms, and ended at her knees. Thick red lips and crystal green eyes, framing her heart-shaped face with high cheekbones. She was not thin but definitely not fat. He could see her curves clearly through the dress. Narrow waist, with nice round hips and slim lovely long legs. With her heels she wasn't that much shorter then himself. She looked a bit pale and her eyes were devoid of emotion. He had seen that face a lot in his time when family members or friends had found out that someone close to them had died. He led her back to his office to get some more information for this case. She followed silently. As he closed the door behind her, he took another smoke before he stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. He smirked as he turned to face her with his usual swagger.

"So you are the precious witness I need to drag around for two weeks. Roy Earle." He introduced himself, extending his hand in a formal greeting that was standard in society, letting his name roll off elegantly which usually made women swoon but not her. She was looking at his hand as if it was the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. "And you're the cop that thinks he walks on water and is invincible," she replied with one eyebrow raised. His lips pressed into a thin line. He was annoyed that she didn't want to shake his hand and at her remarks.

"_This is going to be fun,"_ he dryly thought as he eyed the woman.

"I don't think. I know," he replied with a controlled grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

She scoffed in a vicious manner making him curl his fists. Her attitude was grating on his nerves to no end. She was definitely not a lady and had no right to treat him like this. She didn't even know him.

"For someone with such a pretty mouth, doll, you sure have a filthy tongue," he said with a false smile. Something inside her seemed to snap as she turned quickly to him and had her hand raised ready to slap him. He caught her wrist quickly as it came close to his face. She struggled against him, but he easily held her in place, moving her until she hit the wall behind her. She let out a tiny gasp of surprise, and he intensified his hold on her hand, not caring if he hurt her. She just tried to hit him! To hell with what the captain said!

She was still staring at him with such defiance it aggravated him, and she made no noise as he held her wrist firmly. Why was she so hostile with him when she seemed so fucking gullible with Galloway?

His other hand went to her throat, not putting pressure but having it lying there docile watching her reaction. Her breath quickened and he felt her pulse racing under his hand.

"Does it make you feel powerful to do this to women?" she asked with a bored tone, but there was hesitance in her voice. Like an arrow had hit him in his chest, his anger had flared and suddenly dissipated as he leaned closer to her until he felt her breath on his face. He smelled her perfume, a vanilla fragrance invading his senses. Sweet and innocent – the opposite of what she was. He had not expected her to smell so..._good_. Her breath had a faint smell of mint, and he inhaled her scent slowly and he whispered harshly, "I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless I want you to talk if you know what's best for you and we will get along just fine for these two weeks."

"I'm no common whore for you to command," she spat back, pushing against him. He roughly shoved her back against the wall receiving a strangled hiss of pain from her. His nostrils flared. "Learn your place with me, girl. I might be your protection for the coming weeks but I'm no fucking lapdog either. Don't ever forget it. Do you hear me?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Get off me," She said the words which were hard and bitter on her tongue. He reluctantly let go of her wrist, his hands waving nonchalantly before him and stepped back. She breathed heavily, massaging her wrist while staring at him with utter hatred in her eyes.

Roy lit up another cigarette to calm his fast beating heart and nerves. He needed to stay focused. Clearing his throat, he turned to face the woman in front of him.

"So what happened?" He sat on the edge of his dark wooden desk, casually taking a smoke.

"Are you not up to date already?" she mocked him, making his free hand curl around the wood so roughly, that his fingers hurt, while smoking the cigarette more intensely than he had intended.

"Don't make me ask you again," he said with a lazy smirk.

She licked her lips and leaned lazily against the wall, letting a shaky breath out as she spoke, "I saw my friend get murdered by Jack's lackeys. We were just having a coffee before we heard a knock on the door. Lisa told me to hide and she hid my mug, shoes and coat. She was terrified. I really didn't know what was going on just that she had had a fight with her boyfriend who was inconveniently Jack's friend. Maybe she had threatened to expose them or she had just made them angry. She made me hide in the closet in her bedroom. Telling me to stay in there no matter what happened. I heard voices talking, pushing her in the room, and I saw it all. They pushed her down on the ground, forcing her to swallow pills. Saying that the b-bitch had it coming to her for betraying Jack's trust."

Emma closed her eyes and he saw a tear fall down her cheek. "_So she is human after all," _Roy mused. "They were holding her down and one guy in a dark blue suit strangled her. They placed morphine syrettes around her hoping that the cops would be fooled into thinking it was Mickey who had killed her I suppose." She wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked him in the eyes while Roy drew another smoke. "That's it?" he asked briskly.

He could tell she was angry. "Yes, that's it, you insensitive son of a-"

He cut her off, "No need to drag my mother into this, sister," he drawled threateningly as he stubbed out his second cigarette.

Emma snapped her mouth shut, her blonde locks bouncing across her face. He smirked and got off the desk heading for the door. He stopped and gave her a side glance. "Sit tight, I'll be back to get you." Her scent hit his nostrils again, and it had a strange calming effect on him. He brushed against her arm and she stiffened at the contact, staring at him with disgust.

"I can't wait," she whispered sarcastically, turning her head away. His fingers gripped her chin turning her towards him again on its own accord. "Listen sister. I'm all you got. So treat me with some _fucking _respect."

"You have to earn respect and so far you are doing a horrible job at it." In fury, Roy let go of her chin roughly and punched the wall next to her, letting his anger out. She jumped from his reaction, eyeing him with trepidation.

He glared at her with hatred mirroring her own, and was pondering about changing his mind to let her die in any case. Jack could be brought down one way or another, right? She was driving him nuts, and it had been less than ten minutes since he had first laid eyes on her. _Fucking bitch!_

Roy didn't respond and slammed the door on his way out. Taking his hat off, he let his hand run through his short black hair as he walked to the information desk.

"So what amazing shithole do I have to live in for the coming weeks?" he drawled with heavy sarcasm, as he got papers handed to him from the cop at the desk.

He was annoyed he wouldn't be able to live at home, annoyed that he wouldn't be able to do what he normally did, annoyed with the girl he had to look after, annoyed to hell with his life just taking a damned wrong turn. The captain was punishing him with this assignment. He didn't deserve to be punished. He was the damned chief detective!

"Come on, Roy. At least she is not ugly company. That should be some comfort," the cop said. Roy raised his eyebrows at him. "It should be, shouldn't it? Too bad she is a fucking lunatic." He would not deny or admit that she was beautiful. She didn't deserve it. The cop just shook his head.

He scanned the papers and groaned. He was going to live at the Mayfair hotel, really? Would it be too damned much to ask to live in a nicer place? From the looks of it they had got the shittier hotel rooms as well. "_Captain really __knows__ what buttons to push_," Roy thought bitterly. He was going to miss his apartment. All that booze and his suits...he guessed he could pick some up of course.

Knowing the location, he went to the lieutenant, getting some more clues and information about the case. When everything was confirmed and he was handed a cop radio to have in the apartment, he walked back to his own office.

Roy saw her sitting by the window, staring outside with a solemn expression on her face. He could see that she had been crying. With so many years of experience, more than he wanted to own up to, you learn to pick up when people have been lying, crying or all the other shit. Her eyes were swollen and puffy. Her head whipped to the sound of him coming in, and he could see she was doing her best to hide her emotions.

"So you are a woman after all?" he said indifferently, cocking one of his eyebrows.

"I'm a big girl. Don't need you to hold my hand, detective," she shot back at him.

He ignored her jibe, not wanting to be riled up again. "What part of witness protection don't you understand, lady? Sitting by the window is like waiting to be shot like a deer getting caught in the headlights. Not that I would mind, it would make my life easier," he replied, his voice light.

"Jack's cronies might be stupid, but they aren't _that _stupid," she answered, pushing one of her blonde locks behind her ear.

"Oh, you would be surprised, sister," he said quietly, fixing his papers, pulling them all into a file and placing them inside his suit.

"Have you packed all your stuff?" he asked, looking at the desk in front of him. "_Goodbye sweet office where I could just relax and be paid for it,__" _Roy mused in his head.

"It's already at the apartment. I wasn't allowed to go back to my place so they sent some people to pack necessities from the list I gave them."

"Just my place then," he mumbled, lost in thought.

Surprisingly she followed him quietly as they left the station. Roy had a smug smile on his face as they walked to his car. She seemed confused that they didn't enter any more of the less expensive, more-suited-for-police cars. He couldn't help but grin as he saw her eyes widen when she realized which car they were heading for. His shining maroon Cadillac 62' Convertible was his baby through and through.

"I didn't realize that police work paid this well," she remarked as she stood next to the car on the passenger side.

Not the response he expected. When women saw his car, they usually were in awe of him and thought he was the big hotshot on the police force. He was of course but having a car preceding your reputation never hurts. Remembering that she was not the typical lady, he smirked at her. "Can't be seen slumming it in a Nash or a Ford, working where I work."

She eyed him again with a scrutinizing stare that could match the junkie whore Elsa's. "What a shame _that _would be!"

"_Her sarcasm would be the death of her," _Roy grumbled in his head. No woman had ever been this disrespectful. Not even miss fucking Lichtmann, and he had slapped her. The only reason why this one hadn't gotten one was because it wouldn't do well for their case, and the captain would be furious with him. At least that's what he kept telling himself as his fingers itched. He sat down, starting the engine, holding the steering wheel extremely tight. She sat down next to him, staring to the side of her.

"Don't spoil the leather seats," he taunted with his trademark smirk. She didn't respond but sighed as he started to drive. The music softly tuned through the radio and the KGPL channel was a nice distraction from her.

"Does it actually work? Your expensive suit and your expensive car?" she asked not looking at him as they rolled out into the traffic. The full moon in the sky was had her attention. It was a beautiful night with clear skies and a soft summer breeze.

"Doll, it works on anybody," he said with a cocky chuckle.

Her glare intensified as she stared at him. "Who are you trying to fool?"

"_Really? What kind of a fucking question is that?__" _he thought to himself.

His grip tightened on the wheel and he hit the acceleration pedal a bit harder then he had intended. "Did I hit a nerve?" she mocked when he didn't respond, almost hitting the Chrysler in front of him. Good riddance it would be though, but his car shouldn't suffer. He would take any day with self-righteous pin-up boy Phelps above this; at least he could handle him.

"Keep on hitting it and you will see where you will end up." It came out as a half-hearted taunt, but there was a threat to it that did not go unnoticed by her.

She tutted, "Such a sensitive boy."

"_Ok, that's it!__" _he thought to himself.

He was furious at her constant snide remarks. He turned to face her, seeing a false innocent smile on her lips, but her eyes gleamed with glee. "I mean it sister," he said seriously. He was not joking around now.

"_Sensitive boy? Fucking bitch!__"_

She let out a silent scoff but remained silent for the rest of the drive but it did little to sate him. He was not used to a woman of this calibre and it was aggravating him beyond any means. Especially since he could do shit about it. He was still angry and nothing suited the notion. His fingers prickled irritably for an outbreak of the violent sort and his mood was bad.

They arrived at Roy's apartment which was located close to Hollywood in the nicer parts. He heard her let out a dispassionate chuckle as he stopped the car just in the parking lot.

"Figures you would try to live like a movie star as well," she said, eyeing the pale rose apartment building that was high class. Roy just smirked at her, not bothering to dignify it with a response. What was wrong with living in style when you have the means for it?

It even had a receptionist waiting for Roy as they walked inside the house.

"Good day Mr Earle," the bald, old man behind the desk greeted politely as Roy swaggered past him, not responding.

"And good day to you to, miss."

Roy looked behind him and saw Emma grin at Eric, the receptionist.

"Hello to you too, sir. Fine day today isn't it?" she said sweetly to him, making the older man smile back at her.

"Be careful so you don't end up giving him a heart attack," Roy commented, receiving a bored look from Emma.

"Is he always like this?" she asked Eric with a light chuckle, completely ignoring Roy. If she could make him angrier, she had definitely succeeded. She was doing all of this on purpose just to piss him off. He didn't like being ignored much less by a woman and being treated like he was not even there. It was interesting to see how she could switch her mood like a light bulb going on and off. Fucking women...was there anything more devious than them?

Roy could see Eric's cheeks blush slightly and mumble something inaudible. Clicking his tongue irritably as he said, "Don't say anything you might regret later." Eric's eyes widened in horror for a moment but Emma just chuckled, giving Eric a pat on his shoulder before walking up to Roy. He grabbed her arm roughly, dragging her forcefully into the elevator that conveniently opened the second he pressed the button. Her skin burned his fingers like hot lava. He let go of her as he pressed number five and felt the elevator moving.

Emma was rubbing her arm, and leaning against the metal wall. All of his anger was bubbling dangerously close to the surface and he clenched his fists hard so as to not do something rash, but it was too late. "What the hell is your problem?" he asked before he could stop himself.

She frowned at him. "I have just lost my friend. What is your excuse?" she retorted, her voice quiet and vulnerable, surprising him. Before he had time to react, she had her hands covering her face and was shaking. He could tell she was trying to hold it together, but she was crying. He could hear her muffled sobs. Despite the anger, and seeing this view from countless women during his time as a detective, he never really cared for other people's misfortune as long it didn't affect his own.

Being stuck in the elevator he could not really ignore it, and he tried telling himself that the broad deserved this. That she had not earned anything to receive some kind of consolation from him. But her sobs were like high pitched screams in his ears even as quiet as they were and it was grating on him.

A loud ping disrupted his musings, and they had finally reached their destination and he thanked whatever force was out there in the world for it. He left the elevator like a fire had just started.

The girl followed him silently, softly sobbing and he could not take it anymore. "Don't come crying to me. It won't work. Your friend probably had it coming to her." He stood in front of her, while she was wiping away a tear.

Even with his reflexes on high alert he did not see the sharp slap that hit him on the side of his cheek. His cheek was stinging, along with ringing in his eardrums. _The g__irl __had__ strength__;_ he had to give her that. "How dare you?" she seethed as he rubbed his sore cheek like he was unperturbed, when he slowly looked back at her. This was the second time in less than two hours she tried hitting him, and only succeeding once.

"Do you even have an ounce of humanity in that black heart of yours?" she continued, her body shaking with anger, clearly not seeing the warning flags coming across Roy's face.

He flashed a dangerous smile before he let his anger finally burst out. No woman had ever hit him before. Remembering what the captain had said about her being a bit on the emotional side and to not become violent with her, he grudgingly let it slide. She was very brave, and very, _very _stupid for slapping him. _Nobody _hit him!

"Hit me again, and I will show you how little I care about you coming to court with no marks on your body." His voice was low like a whisper but was laced with venom but she seemed unruffled about that fact. Was she not taking him seriously? Would he really have to _prove _what he would do if she ever did something like that again? He had surprised himself for his own restraint that he usually let run rampant whenever he felt like it. His gun, the 1911 Colt pistol hidden beneath his suit was just begging to be taken out and shoved in her face.

_Fucking bitch_...

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_**Love it, hate it?** :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So here is the second chapter. Hope you like it! Want to leave a huge thank you to my awesome beta MrsBates93 for being so great for helping me with the story and fixing my stupid mistakes.**

**Leave a review for my muse! :)**

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Roy was staring at the woman; his cheek still felt the sting of her slap and turned around, not wanting to hear what damned excuse or snappy comeback she would have. He walked to his apartment door, number 503 on the top floor of the building. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside, not bothering to see whether she had followed him. The usual aroma of his apartment filled his senses. The cologne fragrance mixed with a cigarette scent had clustered into the walls of his home, not that he minded.

He threw his keys casually onto the big sofa, along with his hat next to his apartment door and turned on the lights in the hallway, while walking straight to his liquor cabinet in the living room. He needed something stronger then cigarettes being stuck with this excuse for a dame.

Pulling out a wide, short lavish crystal glass from the cabinet, he opened the whiskey bottle and poured a third of it into his glass before swallowing it. He noticed she was looking around the apartment with a mild curious expression on her face while her arms were shielding her chest. The hallway and living room were connected by the open oval spaces in the wall that separated them. There were a few bookcases, with even fewer books aligned on them. Did he really look like a guy who spent his evenings reading? There were two big leather couches with one armchair, and one dark wooden coffee table with a radio and a very large expensive red rug underneath it. The tapestry on the wall went all around his apartment except in his bedroom which had beige wallpaper and he had a few pictures and paintings covering it. All non-personal, with the one exception of his mother but that picture was safely tucked away in his bedroom away from prying eyes.

She seemed to have noticed it too, he could tell by the slight crease on her forehead when she frowned. Or maybe she was surprised that his home looked less friendly then she had imagined it would.

Roy didn't have a big kitchen he didn't need one as he spent almost every day eating outside of the apartment, not having a good enough reason to make food himself. His fridge and storage cabinets were all nearly empty and he only had a little kitchen blue table with one white chair. He poured more whiskey into his glass sensing that she was judging him as he did so.

"Are you not going to offer a lady a drink?" she casually asked like she had not just insulted or slapped him before. The audacity of the bitch!

He snorted in response before his mouth curled up into an arrogant smirk. "Tell me when you see one."

She sighed, "Touché." She frowned again looking around the apartment. "I figured you would have pictures everywhere showing just how well off and famous you are."

"I don't keep personal items." He shrugged as he swallowed his second shot. The burning sensation numbed his anger and the sting of his cheek.

"No parents, siblings?" she asked curiously. Like he had stated before, her mood was like a damned light bulb going on and off.

"I'm an only child, and the bastard that has the right to call himself my father is dead," he said bitterly, not caring that he had told her something personal about his family. He never talked about his father to anyone, and he blamed the liquor on it even if he wasn't intoxicated yet. Lapse of judgement, was his reasoning.

"What about your mother?" she continued.

"You are awfully curious aren't you?" Roy stared questioningly at her while she slumped against the wall. "It's not a good trait for a woman to have," he quipped lightly, tilting his head slightly while he looked at her.

"I'm not like most girls," she stated with a sigh.

He chuckled darkly, eyeing her slowly up and down for effect. "_That_ I believe." Her eyes narrowed at him but he could blissfully ignore it as he put his glass back in the cabinet along with the whiskey bottle.

"Stay here and try not to ruin anything," he said smiling, before turning his back to her, and walked into his bedroom to pack a few necessary things, which were pressed $200 suits. He had two of the same colour that he always wore for his police work which were his favourite, and a few others. He took out one of his bigger suitcases from his wardrobe and packed his suits, one pair of extra $50 shoes and underwear in it. He didn't need anything else from his home except liquor. He walked back to the living room, seeing her at his bookshelves, looking over the dusty books that he owned.

"Ernest Hemingway, William Saroyan." She chuckled half-heartedly as she looked over a few of them. "Have you even read any of these?" she asked, hearing him dump his suitcase in the living room. He scoffed, and walked up behind her, her back to him. She seemed to stiffen when she realized how close he was, and it gave him great satisfaction.

He could smell her again, that vanilla scent and her exquisite shampoo teasing his nostrils. Her earlier amusement of the authors had gone as she felt his close presence.

"Gives a good impression," he said in a low voice, breathing close to her bare neck. It was beyond rewarding to see her tense even more and he could see goose bumps crawl up her skin. "_So he could affect her in some way,"_ he mused to himself. He wondered how terrified she was of him being so close to her, their bodies almost touching. She cleared her throat and slowly turned around. She held her chin high and her clear green irises were glittering with determination but there was something wavering as he caught her eyes like a fox. He had her trapped in some way and he was going to take full pleasure in it. Think of it as payback.

The silence was thick but he wouldn't back down from their staring contest. She had moved against the shelf with her back to it, and he could hear the rapid breathing that she tried to conceal. He wondered for a second why she had let herself get so affected by him when she had clearly stated before how _utterly _disgusted she was by him. He didn't really know why he wasn't backing away. Her obvious discomfort was victory enough but for some reason he didn't walk backwards. He wanted more. He actually took a step closer, hearing her inhale a sharp breath as he did. They were close now, their clothes making contact. He let his trademark smirk dance across his lips as he leaned his face closer to hers. If she was tense before, she just became very stiff now.

"_Maybe this will be fun after all__,_" he thought to himself. Nobody fucked around with Roy Earle without him getting revenge in return.

Emma wasn't moving an inch, either too scared or petrified to do something about it. "What is bothering you?" he asked nonchalantly, like what he had been doing was perfectly ordinary. For a fraction of a second he could see her eyes dip to his lips and back to his eyes. His ego was boosted tenfold when he realized she had been looking at that certain part of his face, and his smirk grew wider.

"I know my lips must be extremely fascinating but that doesn't mean you can't answer my question," he said with dry amusement, seeing a blush working across her cheeks. He leaned next to her ear, and could practically feel her tense aura envelop him. On purpose he breathed against her ear-shell while whispering with a sugar coated voice, "You ever, _ever _try to hit me again and I will break you. Understand?" She let out a shaky breath and swallowed loudly, while slowly nodding. Still being at the crook of her neck, he smiled deviously, "Good." He drew out a long line on her skin to see goose bumps crawl up her skin from his breath. He inhaled her scent deeply once again before backing away. Seeing her embarrassment almost felt like Christmas when he had been younger. He turned and went to his liquor cabinet, and packed two bottles of alcohol into his case. One was his favourite whiskey and the other was bourbon. Glancing at the clock in the hallway he realized he could pay an old friend a visit before going to the hotel. It was 10pm and it was Elsa's show tonight which meant Cole would definitely be there.

Emma seemed to have shook herself from her previous frozen state. Her cheeks were still red from her shock and embarrassment. She looked everywhere but at him which Roy found amusing. He was very handsome, and he had a talent to make women swoon to get what he wanted. They got Prince Charming for one night, and when they woke up they got the real him which was not as pleasurable he imagined, but as long he got what he wanted he couldn't care less.

He picked up his hat, adjusting it nicely on top of his head before heading out of the apartment. They got back into the car five minutes later after he had put his suitcase into the trunk, a comfortable silence hovering over both of them. At least from Roy's point of view. She just looked like she had been caught in the hen's den by a dog. Well, he had found a way to shut her up which was satisfying to say the least.

She hadn't said a word after their little incident in his living room, and he was glad. The music coming from the radio even made him tap his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. She seemed to be confused as he drove the route to the Blue Room and looked at him. "Why are we going to the jazz club?"

How the hell did she know that though? He had never seen her there before, and he was there a lot. It piqued his curiosity.

"Got a problem with that?" he replied, his voice a tone that said that he didn't fucking care if she would have one, lighting up a cigarette when they reached a red light on an intersection.

Emma shook her head solemnly but there was more to it, but he couldn't care enough to delve into it. He was tired and hoped Cole would be there so he could get this over with. He actually hadn't seen his ex-partner since his downfall and for some reason it grated him for the coming encounter with him. Nothing else mattered more than Phelps staying out of this investigation of his to redeem himself or he would end up dead. Or worse actually uncover the truth before Monroe did him in and Roy would be in deep shit if that happened along with his other affiliations if they were ever brought to light by the press or some cop trying to be a new hotshot.

He parked the car in front of the Blue Room. Emma walked next to him, looking tense and concentrated as they headed for the entrance. He stubbed his cigarette with his shoe as he let it fall to the ground. The body guard gave him a dispassionate look before stepping to the side while Roy chuckled, "Good boy." However when the guard saw Emma his eyes widened slightly and squinted back and forth with confusion. "Hi Freddie," she mumbled.

"Emma, what are you doing with this..." Freddie looked at Roy with a glare, "_gentleman _over here?" He pronounced the word with heavy sarcasm.

"Careful, Freddie. I might get the wrong impression with you talking that way about me." Roy smirked, pressing his new cigarette between his lips. So they knew Emma at this place? Well this had just got more interesting.

"Don't worry about me. I will tell you all about it once the smoke clears." Emma smiled at the black man, giving his arm a squeeze. The man seemed to soften, knowing she wasn't here for pleasure and certainly was not with Roy for her amusement.

He let both of them inside, and she refused to meet Roy's steely gaze. Alfonso was working tonight. He didn't make a sound when he opened the door for Roy to which he flashed him a taunting grin that showed what he would do to him if he ever tried putting his hands on him again.

Like the previous guy, Alfonso had the same reaction seeing Emma with Roy. She shook her head at him when he was about to say something, and just gave him a reassuring smile to let him know that she was okay.

"So it would seem you've been here before?" He phrased it as a question, but it was more of a statement than anything else as the loud music enveloped his hearing. He saw the junkie, dressed in a tight purple dress, singing. He followed her gaze and smirked seeing who she was looking at. Cole Phelps in all of his justified...glory.

"I work here," she said quickly which made him turn around to face her. She looked away from him but he wouldn't give in. "I've never seen you here before."

She scoffed. "That's because I made _sure _you didn't Mr. Earle," she said, looking at her manicured fingernails.

"What did I tell you about having an attitude around me?" he seethed quietly.

She tilted her head, her eyes interlocking with his. "I'm a waitress here. Your reputation precedes you and I'm a friend of Elsa's. She warned me about you. Told me to avoid you the best that I could, saying that you, Mr _Untersturmführer_," she said the last line with a fake German accent, making Roy angry, hearing that filthy German language escaping her lips, and his body twitched for an outbreak. "Are a bastard, an opportunist who doesn't care for anyone but yourself. I always avoided your table just to avoid an unpleasant interaction. Look how well that worked out," she said the last part bitterly.

So this was the reason she had been a fucking bitch all this time. His eyebrows furrowed and he responded angrily while stepping closer to her. "Then Elsa must have told you how I feel about that shitty German gibberish." They remained silent for a moment just looking at each other oblivious to the music and the people chattering, dancing and walking around them.

"You mean before or after you beat her?" she snapped back at him, making him curl his fists tightly. She was lucky they were out in public or he would have hit her. His blood boiled with rage. She had still not learned her lesson from his apartment?

"That bitch had it coming to her," he said.

"You asked. I answered," she replied heatedly. He tried controlling his breathing, and looked at her with a tense grin, completely taking her off-guard. "Go buy yourself a drink. I have business here that needs taking care of."

She went to the bar with no complaints, and his eyes followed her as she walked with those nice swaying hips of hers, he noted, to the bartender that lit up by her presence, and he saw from a distance, that they were talking. He would have to teach her a lesson once they got to the hotel.

Steeling his nerves, and plastering that triumphant smirk on his face, he sauntered with strong confidence to the table where Cole Phelps was sat. Preparing for whatever would come, he took one heavy breath before making his presence known to the detective who seemed too lost in thought, looking at his lover, Elsa. He lit up another cigarette for false courage, and walked up to Cole.

"Buy me a drink, Cole?" he asked with a heavy tone of arrogance, walking pass his table to sit down across from him.

The detective was not giving him the satisfaction of looking at him and responded with a loud, "No."

"Not even for old time's sake?" Roy's eyes looked elsewhere as he talked lightly, grinning once his eyes were firmly set on his ex-partner.

"Not even for that," the detective replied bitterly, still refusing to look at Roy. He could understand it, but he was too tired, too fed up with the girl to care. He liked Cole, and even if he was mostly here on Monroe's bidding, he didn't want Cole to end up on the pavement with his brain splattered all over the place.

There was silence, and Roy looked at his cigarette while he tried his best to have his smirk firmly set before looking at Cole, who was firmly set to keeping his gaze averted from him.

"You are not going to ask why I'm here?" He proceeded with his confident grin, raising his hand with the cigarette before taking a smoke.

"I wouldn't give you the pleasure. You'll get around to it," Cole said quietly, just tilting his head to the side but not fully facing him.

Another round of silence and Roy looked over at Elsa who was singing some jazz number. She had a beautiful singing voice; it was the only thing that was nice about her. Deciding to get some kind of reaction from Phelps, he decided to push his buttons.

Still looking at the junkie singer he said, "She is in fine voice this evening." Turning his head towards Cole with an obnoxious grin he continued, "I wonder how the Commander would feel about-" but he was cut off as Phelps briskly replied with a sideway glance, "Save the threats for someone who cares about them, Roy." His mind inwardly flashed to the girl, heavily reminding himself he had already been defied too much by a girl today to put up with anything else.

He quickly found his composure again, seeing the shot glass of whiskey on the table, just begging for Roy to take it. Grabbing it he continued, "You're breaking my heart, Cole. You know how I feel about you." He downed the shot in one go. Cole probably didn't know how true his comment was and mistook it for just being in Roy's sardonic nature. But he meant it more than Cole would know. He was trying to pass him a friendly warning, not having him caught up in the shit he was knee deep in already. He leaned over the table slightly with his sauntering grin before he settled for more of a serious and grim approach.

"Stay away from Elysian Fields." His voice was loud and harsh. The detective's head dropped a bit, and shook his head. "I should have known you were playing errand boy." He was surprised at Cole sounding disappointed in him, and at the same time acting strong about it. He sighed, while his arms rested on the table. He was having one the worst nights ever. Even when he talked to Cole he seemed to still refuse to look at him. "You and your doofus partner. You have been warned." He was beyond being condescending, but it felt brilliant and good to let some of his anger out to his ex-partner, even if it was only in snide remarks.

Cole didn't seem to care, and responded in the same manner, "Thanks for your cooperation, Officer." He let the last part roll off his tongue. Roy tilted his head, his grin gone and with a stronger tone that implied he was not joking around, "Stay away." His voice took on a softer edge as he continued, determined to look at Cole's side profile, "You have no idea of the type of people who are involved in that company."

The last part was more out of concern, than a threat, but Mr. Golden boy took it the wrong way because he finally turned around to face the Chief detective for the first time. His arms were on the table as he talked slowly, "I have a pretty good idea, Roy. The same kind of people that sent you here." While Cole was ranting, Roy could not look him directly in the eyes. But Cole didn't seem to notice. Figuring he would get nowhere playing the nice guy, he just decided to pull out the facts. Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray while letting his hands fall from the table, he spoke, "Your investigation is finished." Leaning back in the chair, he continued in an antagonizing manner while finally staring Cole in the eyes with a gleeful glint, "Homicide will be taking over from here."

Before he could continue his excellent rant, he was interrupted by loud laughter. Both he and Cole looked over at the bar, and he sighed once he found the source of the laughter. It was his _precious _witness, apparently getting hammered faster than most people could drink. He saw a bottle of clear liquid next to her, realizing it must be clear vodka the bartender kept feeding her with. He muttered with heavy resentment, "Shit!"

Cole must have noticed his expression and his comment because he had a smug smile as he eyed the girl and then Roy. "Friend of yours?"

He let out a low scoff, and ignored Cole's attempt to rile him up. He had had enough of this crap. Standing up, and looking down at Phelps, he proceeded with his taunt, "As I said, Homicide will take over. I've heard we've had a spate of grass fires in the hills that you and that hunchback might be able to handle." Cole looked angry when he referred to Biggs as a hunchback, but it felt good after all that had happened to see him get lightly mocked. He smirked again, and began walking past him to fetch the girl that was getting hammered. "Thanks for the drink, Cole." Phelps didn't respond, and Roy walked with quick steps up to the bar, hearing Emma's soft giggles as she was having a conversation with the bartender.

"Okay, the fun is over. We're leaving," he said harshly walking up next to her. His eyes widened for a second seeing how the bottle was already half empty. Emma seemed not to have seen him coming and was still chuckling, her eyes firmly looking at her glass.

"I hope for your sake pal, that the bottle was not full when you opened it," Roy drawled threateningly eyeing the young bartender who seemed to shrink in his presence.

"She normally never drinks, but told me to hand over the bottle. What was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to say no, you idiot. Is that a sentence too hard to grasp for that little moronic brain of yours?" Roy snapped, feeling the awful thrill of having to get a drunk girl to the hotel. Could his night get any worse?

"Mr. Earle, don't spoil the fun. Beats being sober," Emma slurred heavily, her balance questionable as she seemed to struggle to sit on the barstool.

"Can you walk or do I have to drag you out of here?" he said.

"I'm not that drunk." She was giggling like a little baby who had just found its first toy. She got off the barstool and was wiggling as she tried to stand straight. "See?" she said triumphantly before collapsing onto the floor, laughing uncontrollably. Roy looked around, knowing the heavy noise had caused a scene as a few curious heads turned towards their direction. Including Phelps as well it seemed. He felt utterly humiliated as he was now associated with the girl that could not hold her liquor for five cents. Like a married guy being married to a fat broad. And the worst part was if he caused more of a scene it would actually work against him since he was a regular in this place.

_Fucking__ bitch!_

"That's it. We are leaving," he said briskly, taking the girl's arm and dragging her up onto her feet before he lifted her and carried her over his shoulder, his arms firmly holding her legs so she wouldn't kick him. He could feel her fists hitting him in the back, but it felt more like pats than anything else, that could be attributed because she was drunk. "Put me down. I'm fine. Haven't felt this good in a while." By her slurry tone, it indicated she was anything but.

"She put the bottle on your tab, Mr. Earle," the bartender said meekly as Roy got ready to walk out. He turned around; still ignoring the intoxicated dame he carried whose protests became weaker and more incoherent. "O_f course she put it on my tab__," _he thought furiously. "This will be for free, won't it? Or I'm sure I will have your ass dragged downtown for this shit." The young guy seemed to stutter before nodding weakly.

"Attaboy," Roy said before walking out of the club with the drunk girl over his shoulder, not caring about the stares he got on his way out. He just hoped people would not remember it so he wouldn't have to hear anything about this incident from everyone. His reputation was important to him, and he wanted to keep it that way. Showing any kind of weakness or trouble would mean people would think that they had the fucking right to joke around about it.

Her protests had quietened down once they were outside the club. Thankfully there weren't that many people outside waiting to get in the club to see the scene. He let her down, holding on to her shoulders to see if she could stand by herself.

Her eyes were slowly flickering open and closed, while her palm was rubbing her forehead. "I don't feel so good," she mumbled slowly. He figured, drinking almost half a bottle of vodka in less than 15 minutes and then having your head going up and down while being carried might have that effect on you. He was just surprised she had not emptied her guts yet. Thank God for small mercies, right?

He didn't have time to respond as she fell in his arms. This was the first time he really felt her against him with no tension or hate. She was relaxed, her body soft and light against his. The aroma from the vodka was heavy but her natural fragrance was mixed in with it. He lifted her up once again, bridal style, not caring about her silent slurry protests to the short walk to his car and placed her in the passenger seat with a heavy sigh.

As he sat down to start the car, she did something he did not expect. Her head leaned against his arm, and he stiffened, thinking the booze must have clouded her mind.

"You smell nice." She smiled absentmindedly, leaning closer to him, rubbing her head against his arm in an act to get more comfortable. He had not been prepared for this, and certainly not for her to throw him a compliment or get physical with him when she had expressed her hatred towards him before. She probably never even meant for him to hear her say something like that.

"_You smell nice_," he repeated in his mind, and a smirk graced his lips. Of course he did with his 30 dollar cologne and he would use this to his advantage once she had sobered up. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, seeing she had fallen unconscious.

He sighed, while shaking his head dejectedly. "What a day I'm having," he muttered as he started the engine to take them to the Mayfair hotel. At least traffic was slow, making the drive go by pretty fast. She was still leaning on him as he arrived at the hotel, and while she had been a total bitch to him this evening, he reluctantly liked this small physical contact, and had no intention of pushing her away. She was unconscious and wouldn't remember it anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Here we go with chapter three! Hope you will like it. Thanks to the people alerting and reviewing. I get very happy when I see that. It so boost my confidence to continue to post chapters. A huge thank you to my awesome beta, MrsBates93 for bein so quick and so bloody effective checking thee chapters :)**

* * *

They arrived at the hotel just after 11.30pm, and Roy parked the car in the garage. She was still out cold as he stepped out of the vehicle. The easiest way would be to carry her to their adjoined rooms.

He picked her up in his arms easily, and would have someone take his luggage to their room. Her head was laid against his chest, while her arms limply hung to the side as he carried her to the entrance of the hotel. He stepped inside, managing to keep his swagger and smirk as people looked at him and the girl in his arms like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

"I want to check in," he said rudely to the brunette receptionist who was speaking into the phone. She smiled politely at him before her eyes wandered to the girl that he was holding. "Just a moment, sir." She grinned, but her voice was tense. She hung up the phone, and took hold of the hotel checking-in ledger. "Name, sir?"

"Roy Earle." He rolled his name off elegantly while smirking at the woman who seemed to be taken aback by his attitude. She cleared her throat, "And the young lady is?"

"Now that is none of your goddamn business is it, sister?" He was still smiling but his voice was terse, and it held a strong tone of _don't-fuck-around-with-me._

"Of course not, sir." She looked through the ledger although her cheeks were a bit rosier then before. "Here we are, Mr Earle. Its room number 243 on the second floor. There is already a bag there for the young miss that was brought in earlier. If you wait we can have someone show you the way."

"No need. Just have someone pick up my luggage from my car. It's a 62' maroon Cadillac Convertible, hard to miss, and send it to the room." He gave her his car keys while she nodded at him. "And if I find any type of scratch on the car I will personally come after you," he added and her eyes widened while giving him the hotel keys. "Have a pleasant night, miss." He smiled as he walked to the elevators. He could hear Emma mumble something inaudible. She was finally waking up, he noticed, as he watched her eyelids flutter.

"You too, Mr Earle," the receptionist answered back with a tense tone, staring after him, her body trembling slightly from his threat.

They got in the elevator thankfully alone. He pressed the button and breathed heavily. The girl started to move in his arms, her eyes finally opening.

"Morning sunshine," he drawled amusingly with a smirk looking down at the confused but barely awake girl. She groaned putting her hand on her face to rub her forehead, probably to ease the coming headache. "What happened?" her voice was still a bit slurred but not as much as it was before.

He let out a dark, cocky chuckle. "What happened is you took a trip to la-la land with your head mushed up like potatoes." She groaned again when she tried to straighten her head, and her cheeks were flushed. "I talked about Lisa. It was easier to talk about it when I started to drink." Her voice was sad and strained but Roy didn't want to show any compassion, not wanting to allow her to have any ideas that he was in any way honourable. He wasn't.

She seemed to realize that he was carrying her when the sound of the elevator stopped moving and the doors opened, indicating they had arrived at their destination. "I think you can put me down now," she said quietly when he stepped out of the elevator with her still in his arms.

"You sure you can walk the distance?" he taunted lightly.

To his surprise, she resigned to a sigh, muttering "Fine," before she leaned her head back against his chest, closing her eyes. What the hell had just happened? She actually looked peaceful, and he thought that would only happen if hell had frozen over first.

It put him in strange serenity having her pressed against him, and he didn't complain about it. He rarely felt truly at peace since well...forever. While he was often content he never felt as relaxed as he did at that moment. And she was the cause... it was very peculiar since she had been the bane of his existence earlier this evening. He walked very slowly to their door before putting her down to open the door. He let her down slowly and she leaned against him as she obviously still couldn't walk properly. And even though he didn't seem to mind that her body was against his, his nerves were grated in another way. She was not supposed to make him feel calm. He was _supposed_ to be fucking furious with her still...

Roy opened the door and led them both inside. Emma was breathing heavily, trying to gain control over her body but failing miserably. Roy let out a cocky chuckle seeing her struggle, and picked her up again, despite her tensing up. "_It's easier this way_," he thought to himself. There were only three doors in the apartment, two led to the bedrooms and the other must lead to the bathroom he guessed since the living room was joined together with the kitchen. He opened one of the rooms, and saw it was one of the bedrooms. He dropped her on the bed, and heard her let out a hiss as her hands wrapped around the back of her head. "_Her headache must be getting worse_," he noted dryly.

"That's what you get when you can't hold your liquor," he quipped ruefully to her.

She just groaned in response and slowly lay down on top of the sheets, fully dressed and with her white heels to boot. Roy let out a self-satisfying chuckle and walked out of the room, letting her have a few minutes of peace while looking around in his new...home for the coming weeks. It was nothing like his place. He missed his apartment already.

He saw her luggage in the middle of the living room, and put it outside her room for her to see when she finally woke up from her drunken state.

Another ten minutes passed, and he had gotten his suitcase from his car along with the car keys. He brushed his teeth with one of the toothbrushes the hotel provided, and prepared himself for a long night of much needed sleep. He took off the outer layer of his suit along with his tie, and hat which he hung up in the wardrobe of his own quarters, revealing a white shirt underneath.

Before he got ready for bed, he quietly slipped into Emma's room, seeing her tense posture on the bed. "Planning to sleep like that?" he asked dispassionately.

"I can't get it out of my head." He heard her strangled voice say. "She died and I couldn't do anything about it." He guessed the alcohol was finally pulling down the outer shell she had built for herself. Her hands were covering her face, but from the shaking her body did, she was crying, apparently not caring she was with Roy out of all people.

"People die, sister. That's just the way it goes," he said as a matter of fact, leaning against the doorframe.

She sat up slowly on the bed, her hands falling away from her face but her eyes were still closed. "She was one of my closest friends," she whispered, and she surprised him when she looked at him with fierce determination. "I want him dead for this." There was no question to who she meant.

He didn't answer. She stood up slowly, a pained expression crossing her face due to her headache he guessed and walked towards him. She looked guilty and slowly lifted her chin to look him in the eyes. "I shouldn't have hit you," she stated with trepidation, brushing one strand of her golden locks behind her ear.

"No, you shouldn't have," he confirmed with a cool arrogance, effectively hiding how shocked he was by her confession, he hadn't expected an apology from her in a million years.

"Even though you are an obnoxious bastard," she added as an afterthought. "_Ah, the world __is__ back on its axis again,__"_ Roy mused before feeling for the thousandth time that night, anger rushing through his veins, but he would play along for now.

"I thought we were past the name calling?" he said with a mocking voice, furrowing his eyebrows together curiously, and continued in a condescending tone, "I am who I am, sister. Your approval isn't needed. It's neither desired nor required." He took one step forward and his tall frame was hovering over hers and this time she wasn't backing away but was fiercely staring at him. She didn't respond though and he knew with a cocky grin that he had won this one.

"Goodnight _princess_," he said with heavy sarcasm, and sauntered out of the room.

* * *

Roy fell asleep much faster than normal; the events of the evening had drained his mind. The first four days after their first meeting had been quite uneventful, (and he hadn't heard anything from Monroe or Fontaine either of which had made him guess that Cole had finally been cock-blocked from his investigation) without the inevitable encounters they did share which usually ended in her upsetting him or the other way around, and Roy wishing he could end it on the terms that said he wouldn't fucking take anymore crap from her. Their chemistry was horrible, sparking like electricity clashing with water, as they both hated each other with an extreme passion.

She loathed him because of what that whore Elsa had told her, and apparently because she had seen who he was, working in the Blue Room. He detested her because she had the balls, (metaphorically speaking of course) to not be scared of him when he got angry. Otherwise she had avoided him, and he didn't care. Well maybe a little, but he would never admit it. For some unexplainable reason, he liked bantering with her except when she was disrespectful, but she had the wit that matched his own, and she didn't put up with anyone's crap which he didn't either. She was very different from the 99% of the other broads he had encountered. No matter if they tried to be cocky or arrogant, they always were afraid if someone retaliated harsh enough, but not her. She stood her fucking ground, and he guessed for a woman that was brave. The only time that she was actually vulnerable was when she thought or cried about the loss of her friend whose funeral was after the court case. She did try to hide it from him but Roy had extremely good reading and listening skills. He didn't comfort her; the bitch didn't deserve his pity.

The only good thing about the apartment was that it was big enough so that they could avoid each other. The bad part was she wasn't allowed to leave until the court case which made Roy's life of course way more boring. Because he could not leave the quarters either except on police business.

He had just returned to the apartment, taking the switch from the officer that had been covering for him, after being down at the station to get updates about the case. Which was basically nothing that they knew already. What Emma had said about Dragna's boys trying to tie Mickey to the scene was true. It seemed that they had managed to steal one of Mickey's hats and planted it on the scene as well. Mickster had been over the hill when he had found out – more over the fact that some punk had managed to steal his hat.

_How fucking stupid could you get?_

He wondered how Jack was feeling about it even though he didn't give a shit if he went down. Without the girl's testimony that verified Mickey had never been to the scene, the hat would have thrown them off the scent until the evidence got too old for them to do anything about it.

Roy threw his keys and hat onto the coffee table and sat down on the couch rubbing his temple. It was late and he could hear her showering in the bathroom, and he could only imagine how she looked. Shaking those thoughts out of his head he went to the liquor cabinet in the hotel room and poured himself a shot of his favourite whiskey. He drank it very quickly, immediately refilling his glass, and lit a cigarette to keep the broad out of his head. So while he drank his second shot, he smoked faster than normal as well, not really enjoying either his liquor or cigarette, his mind traveling to the one woman he didn't want to think about. The bitch would be the end of him. He was sure of it.

Her scent was everywhere; clouding the atmosphere like a thick fog. That perfume she used – the soft vanilla fragrance with a hint of rose, the smell of her tantalizing shampoo that made him breathe a tad harder when they had their heated battle of wits when they were close to each other. Not that it was entirely unpleasant; just damned suffocating when he had to inhale it all day, every day. Her aroma had even found its way into his own room, and was now permanently wedged somewhere between his sinuses and his frontal lobe.

He couldn't get away from it. From her. Not for a long period of time which was what he needed. And it was dragging insanity into his brain just that little bit faster.

He hated having these thoughts, and wanted these days gone and buried. He stared intensely at the glass of whiskey when he heard the shower tap being turned off, counting down the seconds before she would emerge from the bathroom and indulged himself in a cruel smirk.

It seemed like forever before he heard her coming out of her bathroom, but eventually she did. Her wet hair was clamped against her skin; like molten gold and the oversized white bathrobe was a perfect contrast to her creamy white slightly pink skin and the belt knotting the robe together could accentuate how perfect her curves were. The aftermath of the shower almost made her glow, and made him despise her all the more for noticing these ridiculous notions. When she noticed him on the way to her own room to get changed, she froze, and just stared at him.

"You're back," she stated.

He smirked ruefully at her, and continued to drink. "Put a sock in it sister." He dismissed her nonchalantly, seeing how damned tense she was around him.

To his shock, she just sighed and continued to walk to her room. _Wait, what?_ No snappy comeback, no witty comment? He was bewildered, and rage rushed through his entire core, like a hot bucket of water had just been thrown over him. He was prepared for it, damn it! He was enjoying tormenting her, and now she was just going to fucking leave and not let him continue?

"I'm not done with you," he growled, not moving from his seat.

She turned around to face him. "And I'm not in the mood."

"Not everything is about you, doll." He snapped making her stiffer than she already was.

"Just leave me alone," she replied, her voice slightly wavering. And he could see the water droplets rolling down her cheeks. She didn't bother to hide them.

"What's with the tears?" he asked, deciding some mockery might goad a satisfying reaction out of her. "Thinking about your dead friend?"

"Leave me alone," she repeated, her voice heavy with trapped sobs wanting to break free.

He sneered, "No." He would not back down. He refused to, and could use some satisfaction to these never ending days.

His stony glare shifted to her ever-plump lips and waited for the customary twitch of her mouth. When you were basically isolated in an apartment with only one person to pass the time with and observe, you noticed the habits and telling signs, and Roy was a fast learner. Despite his feelings, Emma was a rather enthralling specimen to read. All it took was a quick offensive slur about her dead friend, and he would win whatever argument they were having because she would just shut up, and her lips would _always_ twitch. Which he found out on the second day when he crudely brought Lisa into one of their fights and she had frozen. Her pupils dilated, and an agitated flush stained her cheeks. And he revelled in it. It was the only damned joy he had to contain himself with. But it wasn't there today. It was fucking confusing and aggravating.

"Please, I can't do this today." Her _please_ was strange and caught him off-guard.

His lip twitched as he examined her features; her cheeks were smeared with tears, and her eyes were lifeless and bloodshot. Her stare was pleading, and his concentration fell to her quivering lips. It was odd to view her like this. He had seen her cry once, but this scene was more unsettling somehow. She was openly vulnerable and she would probably break down if he said something, anything to hurt her.

She scoffed and shook her head lightly, and tried going for her door a second time which brought him back to reality and he took two quick strides and blocked her path. She looked to the side and bit her lower lip in annoyance, trying to hide her eyes from him.

"What are you crying about? You look fucking pitiful."

"Why should I tell you?" she said, her voice laced with hatred.

"Answer the damned quest-"

"NO!" she shouted, effectively cutting him off, her head snapping up to finally look him in the eyes. "You know all too well what is wrong!"

He should have relished it, knowing that Lisa was the cause. It should have made him feel victorious and provide him with a beautiful opportunity and inspiration to ridicule her. But he stood there silent, just smelling her aroma which was much stronger than usual now, fresh from her shower. It was nauseating.

She was crawling through his system and into his head, screwing up his senses. It was something he could not figure out; something carving into the marrow of his bones and fucking with his head. It was her. Her substance, her spirit; just racing though him and throwing large bricks at his sanity.

Emma breathed heavily and took advantage of his confusion and brushed past him, evidently in an attempt to lock herself away in her room and cry her heart out. But he wasn't willing to drop it, they were not done. He grabbed her wrist and quickly turned her around. She didn't struggle against him; she just stood limply, and was close to him. Her breath skimmed over the sensitive skin of his throat, and he fought the shiver that kissed down his spine. It twitched the muscle above the side of his lip.

She smelled so damned sweet, and was close enough to touch...to taste.

Like an army of flames, he was blasted back to reality, realizing what she was doing to him. He backed violently away from her, as though her touch would poison his mind. He was acting like a motherfucking schoolgirl and he loathed the broad in front of him for invoking these feelings in him that he _never_ thought he even possessed. He was confident; he was cocky, arrogant and never backed away from a girl.

He should have been roaring with rage and plotting to cause her pain in return for what she had done, for how she had acted, but all he could do was stare at her and how she had just brain fucked him.

She took this opportunity to sprint back in her room and slammed the door in front of him, and locked it, snapping him from his train of thought.

"I am not done with you!" Roy shouted, banging harshly on her door. "I said I'm not-

"_I_ am done!" she hurled back, her voice still loud through the barrier. "Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?"

"I like watching you beg," he told her darkly, wishing he could see her expression.

"I would never beg to you," she seethed.

Frustrated he ran his hand roughly through his short hair, feeling the need to roar at her like a lion to a gazelle.

Roy backed one step, and with all his fury driving through his body he managed to kick the door in, not caring what the hotel manager would say about it.

She looked terrified when she saw him, huffing heavily at the doorframe but he would not give her the time to think about it and was quickly ahead of her, forcing her petite form against the wall with a cry emerging from her lips, he grabbed her wrists tightly and pushed them to the sides of her body.

"Your sense of privacy is amusing," she hissed, her eyes glittering dangerously.

"You don't fucking deserve it, doll," he replied in an equal manner, forcing her more roughly into the hard material behind her.

He was enjoying having her squirm beneath him, her body struggling to get him off of her but to no avail. He was evidently much stronger than her and he pinned her with his weight, smirking at her, but she took another route, finding a glitch in his routine again. She stopped fighting, her body instantly softened against him. Why wasn't she fighting? Why was she refusing to give him the satisfaction he craved?

"You had your fun. Now leave," she said in a bored tone, her eyes flashing at him.

"Now why would I want to do that?" he whispered harshly.

He was leaning closer to her, feeling her warm breath dancing against his face, smelling like mint. No matter what he did he found himself drawn to her.

Roy could see fear flash across her eyes, and he found himself loving that. They were mere inches away, and the tension was static. She was breathing harder, and he found himself gazing at her thick dry lips that just begged to be moistened.

Emma paused for a second and ranted, "What the hell do you want from-"

Roy cut her off; grabbing her tearstained face and snatching her lips with a desperate kiss just wanting to shut her up. He sighed shakily into her mouth, not caring whether she felt stiff and unresponsive against him and just acted on instinct. It was hard and demanding. After five erratic heartbeats, he pulled away, but remained close to her. He was readying himself for an outburst to which he would retaliate to and have his fun for the evening but it didn't come.

Instead, he looked at her, seeing her panting breathlessly. She lifted her chin a bit higher, and her pupils were dilated. His hands were stroking her soft cheeks and pulled her closer to him again. Feeling that she didn't fight him, he pushed her roughly against the wall, effectively swallowing her surprised gasp as he captured her lips yet again.

Roy was rougher with her than any other girl but she matched him, meeting his enthusiasm with her own. Her lips were soft and luscious, and he loved the feel of them against his own. It was a battle of wills as the pace picked up and became more erratic. Almost feral. His hands easily found their way under her bathrobe, touching her silky smooth thighs, wondering if she was wearing underwear as his fingers teased her skin. She wasn't scared of his predatory nature, or of this intensity like most girls would be. She let out a soft moan against his lips and like an arrow a rush of heat hit his lower regions. And it woke him from his temporary insanity. Bitch...

He pulled away, already missing her warm body and lips the second he did so. He felt deprived, and everything he had planned to do this evening backfired like hell at him. She looked flushed, and was gasping for air while lazily gazing at him. Her lips were swollen and pinker and he desperately wanted to feel them again. But he would rather say to the press that he was in love with Cole Phelps before doing that. It was a moment of weakness.

"You really are nothing but a whore," he spat, wanting his offensive slur to hit her hard. It did, it was written all over her face.

"If I am one, what does that make you?" she said quietly, making him press his lips into a thin line.

"An idiot that should know better than to rub the scrub with the likes of you."

She frowned, her lips slightly parted as she said, "You talk about the big game, detective, but what the hell do you really know?" She was insulted and hurt by his comment. It was as a clear as a cloud-free day as her body was shaking, her arms hugging close to her chest and her voice that did not hold the normal fierceness. Before she didn't give a damn what he said to her, and yet now she seemed to break down from his comments, which should make him immensely satisfied but it made him feel hollow inside.

"I've told you a thousand times about talking to me with that attitude."

She didn't respond as she turned her head away, biting on her quivering lower lip. Roy marched out of the room, stepping over the broken pieces of wood that lay scattered on the floor from the door, leaving her in her anguish.

Who the hell does she think she is?

He rubbed his lips like a bad rash, and licked them unconsciously. The worst part was that she tasted delicious and she'd left a print on him. He still felt the ghost of her skin on his hands, on his lips, the fucking smell and how he had wanted to take it further.

A heavy feeling settled in Roy's stomach, the feeling you get when you know things are hopeless, a mixture of bile and whiskey. He was screwed.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Another lovely thank you to my brilliant beta, **MrsBates93** for sticking with me so far and putting up with my whining. I did hit a writer's block halfway through the chapter but I hope it's still okay! Thanks so much for the reviews! Know that they do motivate me a lot, and is a super huge boost to keep writing._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

"_Where are you__, you__ fucking coward?!" __h__is voice boomed through the house and the little boy whimpered__ as he hid__ under his bed, praying those footsteps would not __come closer to his door__. He could hear his mother trying to calm his father down but a slap echoed __through the house __and into the young __boy's__ ears __which made his mother go quiet__._

"_Damn you__.Y__ou foolish woman! Learn your fucking place!"_

_The boy clasped his hands over his ears, trying to shut __out__ the outside world. The steps were getting louder, and he could feel the heavy thumps __reverberating on__ the wooden floor. The door to his room was __opened roughly__ and the little boy knew what __was about to happen__..._

Roy woke with a heavy gasp, like all the air had been dragged out of his lungs and a tight feeling wrapped around his chest. He blinked rapidly, seeing he was in the hotel room. Cold sweat covered his body like oil and his heart was beating like he had run a million miles. He never dreamed about his past, he tried to keep that part of his life firmly shut behind barred doors with the key destroyed so he could never enter that place again. His body was shaking of its own accord, like it had relived the experiences that his mind had flashed through. A sour taste tainted his mouth. Looking at his wrist watch he realized it was only four in the morning. Groaning, he laid down on the bed, not wanting to go back to sleep.

When he was sixteen his father died, and it had been the happiest day of Roy's life. That same day he had packed all of his belongings and left the house and a deprived grieving mother behind. The same mother that had never protected him when he needed her as a kid, the same mother who didn't dare do anything thanks to his father's violent behaviour. And the same mother who had said nothing when he had left. He hadn't had any contact with her since that day although she had tried writing to him whenever he appeared in the newspaper to see if he was alright and to tell him how proud she was of him, thinking that he was a good cop fighting the good fight. Like it mattered. Her hair (if it hadn't already) would turn grey if she heard the things he had done.

He knew how the world worked from a young age, sneaking out of the house or staying out late to escape his father who he couldn't stand up to. He was a member of the main gang at school, the ones who always beat the weaker ones down and stole their money or lunch. It gave him a sense that he was powerful and strong and that he didn't have to take any shit from anyone until he went home. He never let anyone get close to him, nobody he could call a friend because he never trusted anyone enough to let his guard down. He did have many acquaintances though, which was needed in his line of work and to get that extra money which never felt wrong to him.

Roy sat up, deciding to erase these fucking depressing thoughts out of his head with a smoke and a shot of scotch. He didn't bother to put on his shirt, and walked bare-chested with his pants on to the living room. His plan however was interrupted when he saw Emma sitting on one of the couches, still in her bathrobe, reading a book. She heard him when he came out, her eyes fixated on his chest, his muscles visibly showing – which was surprising that he still had some to show off with all the liquor he drank but he exercised a lot from his work and besides he would never want to be like Galloway, a flush tainted her cheeks as she turned away.

"Can't sleep either?" she asked.

He grabbed his packet of smokes from the coffee table in front of her and lit up a cigarette, before sitting down on the sofa opposite her. The tension was eerie and did nothing to calm his already heightened nerves. All he could stare at was her lips which distracted him.

"Well isn't this just nice and awkward," he drawled, tearing his eyes away from her to look at the cigarette in his hand.

"You are free to go back to your room anytime you want," she said happily, intensely staring at the pages of the book in front of her.

"Thank you for that piece of useful information," he replied sarcastically while taking a drag from his cigarette.

"You are very welcome," she quipped, turning a page.

He almost ruined his cigarette as he held it tightly. He glared at her, hoping his stare would somehow make her writhe in pain. She looked extremely focused at her book like he wasn't there, hugging her knees close to her chest, biting her lip in that tempting way that made Roy's insides do a somersault.

"Why did you do it?" she asked suddenly, talking so fast that he barely heard what she was saying.

"You will have to be more specific," he answered, not bothering to hide the arrogance in his voice.

She snapped her head from the book, and looked him straight in the eyes. "The kiss," she said. It was like the room had been sucked into a vacuum and Roy didn't know what to say. Which was surprising, given he always knew a snarky comment or two.

"It was just a temporary lapse of judgement. Don't get your panties in a twist because of it," he replied coolly while drawing a smoke, feeling the soothing effect finally hitting him.

She smiled which turned into a gleeful grin, she didn't believe him. "It wasn't that good to have that kind of effect on me, detective."

He tightened his grip on his cigarette, snapping it in two, and the heat burned his finger as it fell to the ground. He quickly stamped on it while he stared at her. She saw it all and smirked at him before she returned to her book.

Roy felt his muscles contract and he suddenly had the urge to punch or shoot someone right then and there. He stood up and filled a glass of scotch and drank it in three big gulps, feeling the liquor make a burning trail down his throat. He had just had the most horrible night ever. Dreaming of his chump of a dad and then facing this girl right afterwards made him feel even worse than before.

He watched her from his position with his keen, attentive eyes, still seeing that smug smile on her lips and he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile off of her lips while getting some reward of his own in doing just that.

"I was gentle. Besides, you wouldn't be able to handle what I have to offer," he said with an obnoxious grin, making her turn her head towards him, glad to see a glimpse of surprise hidden in her green eyes.

"You are not God's gift to women, you know." She said with a dismissive shake of her head.

"And how would you know? You've never tried it." He let out a dark chuckle, making her roll her eyes, and walked behind the couch, leaning forward so that his arms were hanging on the back of the sofa. He was next to her head, seeing her turn her annoyed face towards him, her eyebrows knitted together into a frown.

"Mmmmm..." he hummed next to her ear with his deep voice, a curious melody caressing her ears, "but I know that you would love what I could do to you." It was fun to see her get so riled up by these comments, although there was some kind of truth in what he said. He would _love_ to have her beg and scream for him, and he would be the one in charge. She was attractive; otherwise if she hadn't been he would never have done this.

He did have standards.

She slammed her book shut and looked at him, but he was still grinning at her. "What game are you playing?" she asked, letting her anger roll off of her tongue.

"I could ask you the same question," he responded lightly. She snorted at him in an unladylike manner.

He was challenging her as his smile grew wider and more nonchalant, his eyes fixated upon hers. A blush was creeping up her cheeks and she broke their staring contest.

Roy used it to his advantage and gripped her chin fast and roughly, forcing her to look at him again. "Not so tough now, are you princess?" he drawled, seeing her eyes frantically looking somewhere, anywhere but at him.

She snatched her head away from him and jumped from the couch, quickly putting some distance between them, but he was not going to let her go that easily. He walked slowly towards her with his swaggering attitude, his grin still firmly in place. He was taunting her, goading her to do something about the situation they were in at that moment.

He chuckled, and commented wryly about her tense form. "Loosen up sister. You're wound up way tighter than my 50 dollar watch."

She was backed up against the window as he came closer to her, but the phone rang interrupting the moment, making her jump from the loud shrill noise and Roy cursed under his breath, wondering who in their right mind would call him at four in the morning? He picked up the phone roughly. "What?" He said harshly, staring at Emma who hadn't moved from her spot by the window.

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine. Did I wake you up from your beauty sleep?" A mocking voice replied at the other end of the phone. Archie...

"I know you have no life, Arch, but you do know how the clock works right? Or has your senile mind forgotten about that?"

"Cut the bullshit, Roy. You need to come down to the station, immediately." Archie sounded very terse, making Roy raise a very curious eyebrow. "I hate to break it to you, lieutenant but you see, I have this broad here who Cafarelli put me down to witness protection 24/7," he drawled amusingly hearing the man on the other end let out a restrained hiss.

"Get down to the station," the lieutenant repeated.

"You're always so touchy Arch," Roy tsked. "What about the broad?" He sighed in a bored tone.

"An officer is already on the way. When he gets there, you better be on your way here." And with that Archie hung up on him.

He put the phone down and sighed. He was somehow happy to be out of the apartment which was filled with misery.

"Well, doll. It seems to be your lucky night...or day; however you want to put it." He grimaced at Emma.

"Who was that?"

"No one to worry your pretty little head over," he dismissed her and walked to his room to put his suit on.

When he came back, his suit was so perfectly fitted that it was impeccable with no creases and putting his hat on he saw the girl sat on the couch, sitting up tensely, as she waited for him to come back.

"You're leaving?" she asked incredulously, looking over his attire, earning a self-satisfying grin from Roy. "Very observant, sister. Go back to bed, have a drink, or shed a tear for your friend and have guilt eat you up inside with that big broken heart of yours."

He lit up another cigarette before putting the packet in his inner pocket of the suit, lazily drawing a smoke.

"Don't try to miss me too much," he continued sarcastically, with that grin that made most women swoon and men hate him.

Her eyes narrowed and she looked away. "I wouldn't be able to even if I tried, detective."

He looked at her with a pensive look, uttering a soft "Hm..." like he didn't believe her. With a few quick steps he was in front of her, gazing down at her with his penetrating stare, making her shake a little by his intensity. He stroked her cheek lightly with his finger, dipping it to her lips, feeling her stiffen under his touch and her breath hitched in her throat. He smirked as he leaned closer to her. "All the evidence points to the contrary."

There was a knock at the door, cutting off Emma's chance at retaliating. He put off his swaggering attitude, slowly backing away from her and opening the door. "Bekowsky, I figured they would send their best Pole here."

"Give it a rest, Roy."

"Stuff it, Polack. You were the top of your game with Phelps, and now you're working with an old man who can't go to work unless he's liquored up. Tell me, how many murders have you two solved? I'm betting none. I think the saying, 'two heads are better then one' doesn't fit you two."

"And you got the better end of the bargain? You're on witness protection. That should say enough about your work."

"My, my, so sensitive," Roy chuckled sardonically, and with his shark-like grin, watched the other man turn slightly red in the face but he didn't respond and the Vice detective continued, his smile growing wider, "Ever the pushover," making Bekowsky snap his eyes furiously at him.

"Is there some kind of pissing contest going on?" A feminine voice broke through their conversation, interrupting both men.

Bekowsky let out a low whistle when he laid eyes on Emma, all the anger gone from his body. "Well, well. I don't mind getting your job for one morning, Earle." He stepped through the door. "Hello beautiful. Stefan Bekowsky at your service," he murmured softly, tilting his head, and kissing the knuckles on Emma's hand. Roy's lips turned into a very thin line seeing the exchange between the two of them. She was flashing a tender smile at the homicide detective, making Roy want to punch something and his fists curled up tightly, his nails scraping roughly against his palms, seeing that she seemed to _like _the detective that used the cheesiest lines of all time. But at the same time, she could not fall for them; she actually seemed to have a brain that most dames didn't when presented with a flirtatious idiot.

So to Roy, that was amusing. Standing straight, he leaned against the doorframe, arms casually folded in front of his chest. "Be careful. She bites." His expression was ridden with subtle glee and amusement as he looked at Emma, who flickered her green eyes between the two men.

"I don't think that will bother me," Bekowsky said slowly, turning his head towards Roy, a smirk gracing his features. "As long as it's in the right places."

Roy had a hard time keeping his emotions cool and indifferent, as a sudden surge of anger flooded his veins like poison. But he would never show it. Why should he care if Bekowsky made a move on her? She meant nothing...she was nothing. But the nagging feeling coursing through him to hit the other man was extremely strong. But then again, it was always strong with Bekowsky.

His smile widened and he looked intensely at the other man. "Don't blame me if she makes you keel over for it. I won't be there to help you when you end up walking like a drunken sailor, no matter how amusing the view would be." And with three calculated, well measured steps he sauntered out of the apartment, lighting a cigarette as he headed to his car.

Roy clenched his fists as he slammed the door of the apartment, wondering what the hell had caused him to feel so pathetic. It was humiliating and unacceptable, and he wholeheartedly blamed her for it. From the moment she had infected him with her behaviour and clogged his senses with her scent, everything had deteriorated, especially his mind. The kiss had left him feeling both revolted and yet...craving for more.

It was tearing his mind into disturbed little fragments that made him question himself, and how far he was willing to go before his inappropriate craving for her taste was sated again.

He wanted her...but not for the right reasons. He wanted her to beg and to writhe under him, and only he could sate the thirst that he would bring upon her. Fucking bitch that made him think like this. He had never had these problems before, not with women, he never cared enough to be more than what he presented himself as but with her, it felt like the game had changed and new rules needed to be applied. The anger he constantly felt around her was begging to be put to better use.

_I will not act upon it..._

The rage he had felt when that sodding Pole had turned up and acted like the pathetic idiot he was, trying to gain affection from Emma had been vicious and explosive, but he had no idea why he had felt that way.

_It's not jealousy..._

Just rage. Possessive rage, maybe.

If Bekowsky thought he would have the privilege to do anything...he was mistaken.

He didn't understand his dangerous, lusty emotions towards her, nor did he like them, but they were powerful and almost instinctive, and impossible to ignore.

He stormed to his car, sucking on his cigarette like it was the oxygen he needed to stay alive.

* * *

Emma saw him go out, his crystal blue eyes filled with determination and anger as he left. She let out a little sigh; being stuck in this apartment only gave her temporary pauses where she managed to catch her breath. When he was here, she couldn't focus, especially after what had happened last night. She was so stupid for allowing it to happen but in that moment, all that existed was that he was so close and he was drugging all her senses with his hovering frame, and the smell of his masculine scent mixed with cologne. It was intoxicating and had led to a huge mistake.

She wondered what Elsa would have said if she had told her about the kiss with the man she absolutely despised. The disappointment would be excruciating.

The man that came over, Stefan had been silent after the loud bang Earle had caused when he had shut the door.

"I'm sorry that you got the one cop that doesn't give a flying shit if you live or die before the court date," Bekowsky muttered with heavy resentment.

"Well, I don't have much of a choice." She sighed before sitting down on the couch, picking her book up.

She guessed he didn't like Roy one bit. He was a hard man to like...but there was something in his brutal honesty that had her intrigued even if she did hate him due to the rumours that had been handed to her. Elsa had been the first one to point him out one night when she was working, warning her to stay away from him. Saying that he was the most vile, cruel man she had ever met when she had first moved to L.A. When she had looked at the man, she could see that he was someone that didn't care what others thought about him. He had this aura around him, and a shit-eating grin like it was planted on his lips to stay there permanently. It was intriguing to watch him at first. Maybe it was because of all the warnings, or maybe it was because of something else...He was such an infuriating prick!

He was handsome, she had to give him that and he had those blue eyes that could be confusing or gentle but the more she heard about him from Alfonso and Elsa, especially when she had found out that he had slapped her friend, the more the hate began to grow in her belly whenever she saw him in the club even if he never saw her and didn't know of her existence.

It might have been wrong to feel so strongly for someone you didn't know, never giving them the chance to redeem himself, but she had a hard time letting the bitterness go. That combined with Lisa's death was too much to handle. She never had time to talk with Elsa, to grieve, or even to call her parents before she was under immense security from the police force. She really should, doubting her parents read the newspaper anymore. So she kept it bottled up, until the day when the fates played their cruel trick on her, that she would have Roy Earle protecting her. She was a headstrong girl, she hated how most women would bow down to men and let them just have their way with them, but she wouldn't accept that even if she also possessed the insecure teenage girl that just wanted to be shown admiration from boys. But Roy was the typical male, just wanting a pretty girl at his side, doing what she was told, and she was sick of women having to adjust themselves for men. She didn't take crap from anyone, and she was damned if she would settle down for a man that thought he could change who she was.

The humiliation was at its peak when she was at his apartment, when he was so close to her, she could practically feel electric sparks going off all over her body, and how her core betrayed what she had been told to feel for this man by just disappearing and made her into a quivering mess. It was unexplainable and made her frightened how easily he could turn her switch on and off which made her despise him all the more.

The kiss...sadly it had been the most passionate one she had ever had. It was raw, demanding and human. Her brain had left the building and she was reduced to the touch, taste, smell of him that was making her body feel like it had been struck by lightning.

She wasn't feeling like herself, it was like a piece of her had been cut out and run over by a truck when her friend had died. They had been close, her and Lisa. They had been friends since childhood, and she had to watch as Lisa got sucked into the darker part of L.A with the mob. Emma was never involved with that, knowing how fucking stupid and dangerous it was if something did not go the way it was supposed to. Getting involved with Jack Dragna when you had no idea what type of life they lived was so naive and ignorant. She kept telling Lisa this, but she just giggled like a little school girl acting like an idiot because she said she had fallen in love with Jack Dragna's brother's son. That was the one thing she hadn't told the cops. She didn't know why she had kept it a secret, or if she was just scared to testify who it really was who had killed her friend. Lisa's death had to mean something and she decided she needed to tell Roy this. Or someone at least.

Emma didn't really know what had happened between her friend and her boyfriend. Lisa never had had a chance to tell her before...The prickling feeling behind her eyes was back as tears threatened to spill once again. All the memories were flashing through her mind, and the detective that had somehow wormed his way into her head was just too much...All the anger she had inside of her was suffocating her and she was tired of it, but she had no other way of defending herself against Roy because he terrified her with his intensity. She was scared of how she felt when he came too close to her, more than she would ever let him know, and she had no other way of shutting herself off from reality and all the bullshit that was going on around her.

A hand waved in front of her face and she snapped her eyes upward, seeing the detective smiling nervously at her. She tentatively grinned back, chuckling lightly. "Sorry. I was stuck in the clouds." Stefan sat down on the couch opposite her. "Don't worry about it." He reached into his inner pocket, and lit a cigarette. Great, another smoker...at least it wasn't the same brand. But the smell was the same and it sent a wave of nausea through her because it reminded her of him...but she cut off that train of thought, she wasn't going to let him screw with her head. She was so tired, being deprived of sleep because of nightmares which haunted her whenever she closed her eyes.

"So beautiful. I heard what happened when I got sent here. I'm sorry for what happened," Stefan said softly. She had spent so much time with Roy; that she had forgotten that some men actually had some decency in them. It had just caught her off guard.

"Thank you," she whispered. It was five in the morning now, and the first rays of sunlight were starting to peak through the clouds.

"Can I just ask what the hell happened to the door over there?"

Emma sighed, rubbing her forehead. "We had a fight..."

There was a moment of silence before Bekowsky asked with a strained voice, "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head, "No."

They talked for another two hours before sleep finally consumed her. Stefan was very nice, a bit on the flirtatious side perhaps. But he was the perfect gentleman and they talked about books but mostly music and about their work. She wondered how she had ended up with a homicide detective but she never asked as her eyelids felt so heavy and closed shutting her off from the world she lived in.


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Heeeeeres chapter 5 which was a real struggle so do tell if you liked or hated it because I've been so bloody insecure about this chapter. A big hug goes out to my beta, **MrsBates93** for as usual being a brilliant beta and friend :)_

_A huge thank you to those that alert, favorite and reviews. It means so much to me! So I hope I can get more support for this story as it is a bloody challenging to write a character like Roy, specially since it is my second fanfiction I have ever written. And since I'm not from UK or the US I'm not good with slangs or expressions used in the 40's or in today's modern culture so I do try my best and I hope it is satisfactory but sometimes Roy is killing me in my head because he is complex, corrupt and I have no idea how he would react to certain situations. And I know with an OC people tend to lose interest faster in a story but I try to make Emma a great character you can enjoy, as I enjoy writing her, and the fact that this is a different case then from what we had in the game and Roy has no partner to bicker around with i guess it can be boring sometimes to._

_Anyway sorry for my rambling but had to get it out lol._

_Hope you enjoy! and please leave a review for my muse! :)_

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"Am I boring you, detective?" Archie's voice broke through Roy's mulled brain. He was tired, annoyed and had a headache that was getting worse as he sat in the opposite chair to Archie's in his office, not hearing a word coming out of the other man's mouth.

"Well, I do have much more interesting things to occupy myself with than listening to you," Roy drawled, making Archie's brows furrow together. It looked almost painful.

"Perhaps I wasn't making myself clear. There have been threats sent to the station about your witness!"

"So what?" Roy said, pulling out a cigarette out from his pocket.

"_So what?_" Archie repeated, his voice tired and dull, he closed his eyes as if he was counting to ten before continuing with a new force of vigour. "So what is that we have been getting death threats directed at Emma Brent."

"So let Pinker check it for prints."

"They are no fingerprints, no nothing. That's the point. It's been wiped clean, and it's been written on a typewriter so we have nothing to go on."

Roy let out a yawn. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this? Obviously the broad will get threats. She's the reason why some of Dragna's cronies will go to prison if she makes it to court."

Colmyer threw a piece of folded paper in front of Roy, making him arch a bored eyebrow. "I think you might want to read that yourself."

Lazily, Roy put the cigarette between his lips, puffing out smoke as he unfolded the note which read,

_Such a pretty face, __and a __pretty body. The newspaper__s__ weren't smart, posting her picture. Her skin looks so smooth, so silken. I wonder how it would __feel if I__ touch__ed__ it, smear it with her blood, marking her like my masterpiece._

_She must hold s__o much power, to make the scumbags run __away in__ fear. I like powerful women, and she would be the epitome of mine._

Roy let out a strangled cry of laughter. "I think this kid needs to read some serious poetry. This is just too depressing to read."

"There is more," Archie said solemnly, "look at the back."

_The corrupted fear her, yet a corrupted man is in charge of her protection. The irony of it is laughable. I'm her reckoning, her salvation. I wonder how her screams will be to my ears, her plea__s__ for her life when it means nothing, her cries for help as I __fulfill__ her body with mine. Only death will bring her p__eace__ in this world of darkness. I'm a man of the darkness too, one of the corrupt, but I see the light now._

"Well, well. Seems like Ms. Brent has got herself an admirer," Roy said, reading the letter again. "Even if he is a psycho case, how adorable!" he said sarcastically, stroking the paper.

"This is no joke, detective."

"Come on, Archie. This reeks of desperation. I bet you $50 bucks this is one of Dragna's men trying to make us quiver like little kids."

"Does this sound like something the mob would write?"

"I bet they are all crappy at poetry so yes I think it is." Roy tapped his finger against the desk, while his other hand held his cigarette.

"I wonder how else this lowlife knew I was in charge of her protection," he continued as he read the first sentence on the back of the letter. "That was not posted in the paper, was it?"

"No, it wasn't."

"Kind of hurts my feelings. Thought I would have a nicer nickname," He said, standing up, heading for the door.

Archie shook his head. "Shut up, Roy," he said which made the Chief detective chuckle on his way out.

When Roy had finished at the station, the words of the letter replayed in his head. But he got broken out of his thoughts as he started the engine and KGPL filled his ears. As the message ended, he muttered, "Son of a bitch. Fucking Fontaine and his fucking needles." It didn't take rocket science to know who had died and by what. Fontaine had called him the night before last when the broad was taking a shower, saying how he had to kill Courtney, the old war buddy of Phelps because he suddenly knew about the fraud thanks to Kelso. Roy had been too tired and couldn't give a shit about it but as KGPL was announcing to the entire LAPD he had to get there before Cole started using his golden brain and figured out who had died. He wouldn't put it past him to be there even though he was at arson. So he responded the quickest, even if he wasn't allowed to.

He started the built in siren in his car, and revved the engine hard as he pressed down the accelerator pedal to the limit as he drove quick and gracefully through the city to his destination.

Speaking of the devil, he saw Cole and that hunchback partner of his already at the scene. Why wouldn't Phelps just leave this alone? Why did he have to be on this goddamn redemption streak to not leave any case unsolved? It would make Roy's day so much easier at the very least since it seemed like Golden boy still hadn't given up on the whole Suburban Redevelopment Fund shit yet either when he had talked to Fontaine, saying that an investigator, another old _buddy_ of Cole's had been the one influencing Courtney and that he had got his nose dirty because of Phelps bidding.

Fucking war people and their righteous beliefs. Like they are the only ones that had a rough time. Please! Oh, he would enjoy this! He walked up with his usual swagger seeing Phelps running towards Courtney.

"Get away from him, Phelps. This is my case," he said harshly. Cole really did need to learn when to not interfere.

My, my didn't the stick up his arse look happy to see him. He gazed over his suit, "Well his taste for clothes hasn't improved whatsoever_,"_ Roy remarked over his dull grey suit. Cole turned around quicker than Roy could blink. "Shut your fucking mouth!"

The kid had spunk today; he was taken aback by Cole's hostility, he wasn't used to hearing him curse, although it was more amusing than anything else. Roy tilted his head. "Since when does a bag man work a case?" Cole continued.

He could not catch a break with this one. And he was tired, surprised to see the dark rings under his eyes when he was in the men's bathroom at the station, and he blamed the girl for it, but he had to keep his cool. "I knew this creep was in on the morphine heist. A victim of his own product."

He turned his head to the side a bit too late to see that Cole had pulled out his gun, aiming it at him. He had to stop himself from laughing; knowing Cole would never shoot him. He was honourable and all that crap, but then again, it was probably a good idea to not push his buttons while he was aiming that thing at his chest. The tension increased as he took the chance to look in the other man's eyes. He looked as weary as he felt. The cop that was already at the scene seemed to become nervous, and scared as he tried to calm the Arson detective down.

"Hey detectives, might want to back it down a notch?! This is getting out of hand." Roy didn't move and continued to stare at Phelps; he still had a smirk plastered on his lips. He did see out of the corner of his eye that Biggs was pushing the detective away, muttering something inaudible. He was about to make some kind of comment about it but Cole's harsh voice broke the punch line that he had built up in his head.

"Courtney Sheldon was a corpsman, Roy. He served his country. He went out with a medical kit and an Army .45 into places that made the Valley of Death look like a picnic. He was either naïve enough or dumb enough to get involved with the Suburban Redevelopment Fund along with the mayor, the DA, Monroe and a certain _crooked_ cop," Cole's voice became even more condescending.

"_Ouch, the words that came out of this man!"_ Roy thought with dry amusement, seeing the pistol waving slightly in Cole's hand, his fingers shaking. He tried not to think about the hidden threats in the Golden boy's speech.

Apparently he was not done as Phelps opened his mouth to continue the holier-then-thou speech, "He was involved in the morphine heist but he has a puncture wound in his jugular, which makes this a murder case." Cole took a step closer to Roy, his grip on his gun tightening. "He was a better man then you'll ever know. You say one more word about him, and I will blow your_ fucking_ head off!" Cole yelled with so much anger he didn't think Phelps could hold, Roy sighed.

He didn't know anything that would make Roy appear in a bad light or worse, get sent to jail? Did he? He really had lost the daily updates when he had been assigned to the broad. He tried to fit the whole complicated jigsaw puzzle together in his head, piece by piece but he had a hard time connecting the dots, being too tired, out of the loop and too obsessed about someone could do that to you. He hated her for making him lose focus of something; he could not afford to lose focus of. He needed to be at the top of his game or this would end badly for him.

He took a scrutinizing look at Phelps, seeing how weary he looked, like he hadn't slept since he had been demoted. It must have really screwed with his head. "You've finally lost it partner," he said slowly, the arrogance rolling off of his tongue like butter.

"I have a pretty good idea why Sheldon is dead, and I know about Monroe." Ah, there is the terrier spirit! The dog had finally caught the bone. Monroe was smarter than that though, or Roy hoped he was anyway. Always making sure no one would find out about the pretty little scam he and the others had going.

"Your vast corrupt future is draining away as we speak." Cole looked gleeful, like a little kid finding the Easter egg. How pathetic, really, and he would not let Phelps see the worry line on his forehead that was reserved for special occasions so he let out a sardonic chuckle. "I got better things to do than argue the rub with you." His smile fell for a second but was quickly there once again, tearing his strained muscles. He gazed at Cole's pistol before taking a few steps to the side hearing Phelps putting the gun back inside his inner pocket. And seconds later, he was cock-blocked from the investigation. He cursed under his breath as he got into the car, slapping the steering wheel, chewing his lip so hard that it drew blood. Double-fuck. Fontaine had better have hidden the evidence really well, or they would all be screwed if they got a warrant for his place. Well...he could change that. So he drove to Fontaine's medical care.

Roy barged in, seeing a thin, brunette receptionist sitting at her chair in the small lobby, playing with a lock of her hair, her eyes looking over Roy as he came in. Since when had Harlan hired an assistant?

Her smile quirked on one side and her eyes narrowed playfully. "Name sir?"

"Roy Earle," he said briskly, checking his surroundings quickly.

"Well, Mr. Earle, I'm sorry but the doctor is not in at the moment. If I can take a message-"

"That won't be needed, sister. I just need to take a look around. Do I really look like the creeps that normally come in here?"

"But Sir, that is not in the regulations-"

"Fuck the regulations."

Her eyes widened when he cursed, and she stuttered making Roy flash a wry grin. "He really didn't hire you for your brains, did he?"

"I find that offensive."

"Well, I find your nose offensive but you don't hear me complain about it do you?"

Her cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink and he could see she was fighting to remain passive but he really could not give two dimes about it.

He chuckled darkly, and brushed past her to the office and she didn't stop him this time. He really hated doctors, and also hated being in these kinds of rooms, he had spent too much time in them as a kid, getting patched up after his father had been rough with him. Also, he did have to work longer if some idiot couldn't handle their medicine.

So Roy quickly searched through the papers that were on the desk, looking for anything that could lead back to him or Monroe if the police ever got a warrant for this place. The doctor was keeping the syrettes in an open, glass cabinet. He shook his head at that; you would think that someone that had a Ph.D. would have the brains to not show that kind of stuff so blatantly. But he didn't care about that, as it could not lead back to him.

Another ten minutes passed, and he found nothing that compromised him. Satisfied with the results he left, walking the walk past the brunette that looked like she had been crying. The door opened and in walked the good doctor, looking somewhat surprised that Earle was there.

"Ah, Roy. What brings you here to my humble estate?" the doctor asked, looking a bit tired.

"You know what," the Chief detective answered.

"Well, come into my office. No need to stand out here like common folk. Brenda-" He stopped what he was about to say, as he saw that the girl was shaking and looking like someone shot her dog. He raised an eyebrow at Earle. "I see you've already had fun while I was away."

"Your receptionist wasn't very friendly."

"Brenda, go make yourself a cup of tea and take a few deep breaths. I will be in my office."

He led Roy back to the office, while the detective lit up a cigarette as he sat down on the sofa situated opposite Harlan's desk.

"Why dump the body where someone would obviously find that creep?" Roy asked roughly, looking at the older man in front of him.

"They would have found him sooner or later. He is connected to both Kelso and Phelps. I figured it would be for the best if he was found sooner in a less...compromising situation," the doctor explained with his silken, sickly voice which grated Roy's eardrums.

"Well, the Wonder boy has already found him and is now conducting an investigation."

Harlan leaned back, clasping his hands in front of him, with a slight creasing frown. "How unfortunate. But as you see, they won't find anything that would associate me with this...horrible murder."

Roy chuckled. "You think Phelps will stop at that? The man will not give up until he has turned over every rock he can find..."

"But isn't this boy demoted?"

"He is friends with Galloway and Bekowsky, two homicide detectives. Even if they don't have the brains to show for it," Roy argued, drawing a smoke.

"Interesting. And how are you, Roy?" the doctor asked, making Roy's eyes flash and meet his gaze. He hated the psychology bullshit Harlan insisted to try almost every time they met, saying that 'he was such an intriguing character to read.'

"Spare me the foreplay doc," Roy said bluntly, he was too fed up with this and too stressed. He had got what he had come for so he stood up from the chair, stubbed his cigarette out and slammed the door in Harlan's face.

He drove casually, patting the interior side of his car affectionately happy that Cole wasn't driving his poor, poor baby any more like a maniac. His arm hung loosely across the inside of the door as he steered with one hand, a cigarette planted between his lips, loving the smell of leather in the morning, technically noon if one was precise.

Another good thing was that Cole wasn't his partner anymore, he had to get his car repaired more in a week than in a year when he had drove. Even if he forced the department to pay for it or if he stole money from Cole's wallet when he wasn't watching. He owed him anyway! And the look on Phelps face was priceless when he realized his cash was gone, he was working 'the missing money' case hard and always ended it with a questioning stare at Roy that he had just whistled it away. He actually missed those moments as crazy as it sounded, but it was...refreshing and annoying as hell at the same time being partnered with Cole who had all these ideals and he was so naive and thought of the big bad world as black and white. He didn't hold the same cynicism as most other cops did. He had a better time catching crooks as long as it meant that Cole of course did the paperwork.

Roy arrived back at the hotel, still sitting in his car, feeling as if something was stuck in his throat for going back up to the apartment. With a sigh, he pushed his feelings aside and went inside the hotel and up the elevator to the room, preparing offensive slurs for the Pole to brighten his day just to find the apartment was empty...what the?

There had been no signs of forced entry as he scanned it over, and noticed with disinterest the door to Emma's room was fixed. He realized Bekowsky must have taken the broad out. Anger flared through him like molten lava, wondering where the hell they were. And what they were doing? Didn't Bekowsky get the memo of keeping her locked up in here as a safety precaution?!

He went down the elevator and went to the receptionist sitting behind the desk, snatching the phone from the slightly young fat man's ear. "The man and the girl that was in apartment 243, where are they chubby?"

The man looked stunned by the rude interruption, and Roy put the receiver back on the phone with a slam. "Where are they, knucklehead?" he repeated harshly.

"We don't keep a list of who enters and leaves the hotel sir," the man answered politely making Roy utter a dry chuckle. "Listen here, fatso. I'm with the LAPD, and it's very much my business to know where they went. So either tell me or I will have to resort to my way, which I would enjoy immensely however I doubt you would."

There was underlying panic building up in his chest, and he could not remember for the life of him the last time he had felt like that. What if something happened? What if Bekowsky was just too stupid and she was taken by Jack Dragna? And of course, he would be off the job, because it would be his ass on the line no matter what. He didn't have time to play around.

"I don't know who you are talking about sir," the man continued politely, although his voice was slightly shaking.

"Okay, my way then," Roy muttered, grabbing the man by the collar, earning a lot of looks and gasps from the staff and customers.

"Sir, please!" the man said meekly, his hands flexing in front of his face to protect himself from the fist that Earle was preparing to launch into his face. It was so ugly anyway; no one would even miss it.

"Roy! Stop it!" A female voice yelled through the void, and he quickly looked at the source it was coming from. There was the bane of his existence, looking just divine with her flushed face, the twinkle of rage in her eyes just shot a bolt through his body. Did anyone say she looked beautiful with that nice hairdo and dress? Someone should. He slapped himself mentally. What was wrong with him?

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she continued angrily, mirroring his own thought but for another cause. She quickly stepped next to him, taking his hand in hers, effectively releasing the hold he had on the other man who backed further away from the desk, clasping his hand around his neck. Her touch was warm and soft and it prickled like hot wax being sprinkled across his skin and he loathed that her touch soothed his earlier whirlwind of emotions so much that he temporarily forgot she had left the hotel before which had made him be like this in the first place.

"Where were you?" he blurted out, before regaining his normal composure.

She looked taken aback by the anxiety in his tone. Hell, he was surprised by it. Her eyes dipped to the side of him, and she was forming a sentence with her mouth but no words came out.

"I felt bad having her cooped up in the apartment like a ghost so I took her out." Roy looked behind Emma and saw a smug Bekowsky standing there, his hands jammed in his suit pockets, looking like he had just won an award.

Roy brushed past Emma and stood in front of the other detective, a smirk taking its place like usual, dissipating his previous behaviour. Bekowsky would not see him like this!

"Quite the display. So you carry a torch for the lady? I don't blame you Roy," Bekowsky chuckled disbelievingly. "I didn't think you had any emotions." his voice was loud, and he knew Emma heard it too. He didn't carry anything for her. She was so annoying and he despised her with every fibre of his being. His concern for his work got confused with it, and the detective misunderstood that simple notion with the peanut he called his brain.

Roy curled his fist roughly, feeling angry that anyone would say something offensive like that to him, and hit him across the jaw. He couldn't form a sentence in his brain unless he let some anger out. And, man, that punch felt good. Like all the explosive emotions he was feeling had been released as soon as his fist collided with Bekowsky's cheek.

"Listen, fat-head. I'm not Phelps. I will not be pushed around so don't be an idiot with your inane accusations if you know what's good for you." He flashed his white teeth, baring a grin, while the other man rubbed his cheek with some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, you're right there. You are nothing like Phelps!" Bekowksy snapped before he landed a punch in Roy's stomach, sucking the air right out of him. "Did you forget I was in the Zoot Suit Riots too, Roy?" he said menacingly.

"Stop it, both of you, stop!" Emma shouted, getting between the two men, putting an arm on each of them to keep them from lashing out at each other, not that it would do much good but it seemed she had a calming effect on both of them. "You're acting like animals, and if you haven't noticed, you have become the attraction of the day. Behave like the police you are," she said, looking at both of them.

"Police? Beautiful, you have no idea who this guy really is, do you?" Bekowsky said solemnly.

Her brow furrowed as her gaze intensified at Roy who was panting heavily.

"I have a pretty good idea, Stefan. Thank you for a nice day but I think it would be best if you leave now."

The detective let out a scoff, shaking his head. "Fine, have it your way. It's your funeral, and I guess Galloway wants me back by now." He took off, giving Roy a final smirk before turning to Emma. "My offer still stands, Emma." And he was gone, leaving Roy in a mental weariness between confused and furious.

They stood silent in the lobby for a few seconds before Emma took her hand off of his chest and tucked a stray golden curl behind her ear. But he didn't give her enough time to think about anything. "Did you have a fun day with the Polack? I hope it was worth it sister," he snarled aggressively, making her gaze down at the floor. In shame hopefully.

"Can we talk about this upstairs?"

"Talk about what? That you had a romantic fuck-fest with Bekowsky? That you two went out, holding hands and danced around like the perfect set from the Best Years of our Lives?" The words tumbled out of his mouth of its own accord before Roy could realize his error. Bitch...

He saw the hurt being reflected in her deep, green eyes. But she just nodded, and muttered a silent, "Okay then. Why are you so upset?"

"I don't get upset doll," Roy argued heatedly.

"Oh, really? The evidence points to the contrary," she said smoothly, using what he said to her previously. He felt his lips twitch and the urge to punch someone again was bubbling just under the surface.

Roy tilted his head to the side, shaking his head while baring his teeth, chuckling while flashing a white sly grin at Emma. "You misinterpret and confuse me to be upset that you were with the Pole than with me just looking out for my own neck. I couldn't care less if you dropped dead right this minute, but then I would be out of a job, and that's what I have a problem with, so you can stop acting like a patsy and grow two brain-cells and see this for what it really is." He had gotten closer and closer to her during his rant until he was only a few inches away from her and the all too familiar feeling that everything and everyone disappeared around them and all that was left was her smell and her eyes staring murder at him.

"You know something? You're such an idiot sometimes," Emma whispered, her voice slightly shaking, she brushed past Roy roughly, knocking him over the shoulder, running towards the elevator, leaving him alone in the lobby with people staring at him.

"Shit..." He looked after her as she rushed into the open elevator and he wondered why he his chest felt tight all of a sudden.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: My longest chapter yet! Yay! over 6000 words, haha. Hope you will like it as we progress through the story. We are nearing end-game, dun dun dun. Many thanks for the reviews and those that added this story to their alerts. It means a lot and hope you will enjoy this bumpy ride! And a big hug to my brilliant beta, **MrsBates93** for being pure awesome and putting up with my insecurity of writing Roy._

_I added some back story to Roy in this chapter and I hope you won't hate the road I chose to go with._

_Leave a review with your thoughts for my muse :)_

_Now onwards and beyond! _

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She was angry; he could tell by the way she was stamping her feet when she walked around the apartment, which had been a lot tonight. Roy was watching her out of the corner of his eye while drinking scotch and smoking, wishing he could be far away from here. Maybe his wish was about to come true when the phone rang.

"Please tell me you've got something," Roy said, assuming it was Archie.

"We do. Roy...pack all your stuff, get the broad, and come down to the station." His former partner replied before hanging up on him, which made the Chief detective sigh. Well he would get out of here, but he would be taking her with him too. "_Guess you can't get_ _everything you wish __for __all the time,_" he thought to himself.

He turned around to see her look at him with that typical hand on the waist sticking out like it was the universal stance for females everywhere.

"We're leaving. Pack your junk," he said.

"Not until you apologize," she responded, her eyes meeting his.

Apologize? For what? The truth? He _never_ apologized to anybody. Who does she think she is?!

"Well then, don't pack, see if I give a flying shit," Roy said with a terse smile, walking to his room, his cigarette planted between his lips as he turned on the light in his room. She must have been out of her mind because she walked in front of him, snatched his cigarette and stamped it out on the ground. Roy blinked. "Stop acting like a prick!" she shouted at him.

It had taken Roy a few minutes to realize what was going on because he was beyond shocked that anyone, especially a dumb broad such as her would dare to yell and take the thing that kept his nerves at bay away from him. She was huffing quite deliciously though he thought, as he gazed over at her. He grinned calmly at her before he gripped her wrist tightly and pulled her towards him, still holding her skin, painfully.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" He hissed.

He could feel her hot breath in his face, and saw how green her eyes were this close up. Well, he guessed he had to admire her courage. Most girls wouldn't be so lucky if they were like this. And yet her face looked perfect untouched. Her skin had this glow to it and he didn't want to ruin it.

He was supposed to say more, something clever and threatening about her taking his cigarette but his brain had just got splattered into a million gooey pieces when he smelled her again, and felt how her body was teasing his with the faintest of touches. Only she had that effect on him, and it was...fucking awful but enthralling at the same time. All of his self-control was useless around her because she broke down the wall that he had built.

She stood like a statue, watching him, allowing him to be this close to her yet again, but he hadn't forgotten that she had spent hours with Bekowsky, alone, outside...doing whatever, that it corrupted his body like venom and made him want to tighten his hold on her, drawing her closer to him that their noses were nearly touching.

"What about the Polack? Won't he be sad if you were found like this?" he growled, his voice rich with jealousy. It didn't suit him...

"Like what?" she whispered back, the anger in her voice had disappeared and had been replaced with a hint of fear and...want. It was tempting, how her mouth was half open and she wasn't pulling away, and how only she had that calming effect on him, erasing the bitterness that clawed at his insides. Roy took the dive, all he wanted was some release from the torrent of feelings he had in his body. It was terrifying, because he had only known her for a week. He might never have had this problem if he had gotten laid before he had been assigned to this case, but what can one do? He dipped his head closer, hearing her shallow pants, her eyes looking into his.

"Like this," he replied quietly before placing his lips on hers. She didn't fight him. She never did when he kissed her, he realized. She seemed to welcome it as her lips melted against his. His tense body finally released its knots and he was overcome by a bout of happiness. He cupped her face, groaning when he felt her throw away his hat to have her nails scraping in his black hair. His left arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer while he deepened the kiss. Her soft, plump lips felt fucking glorious to him and better than any cigarette or glass of scotch. This was the best drug on the planet.

Her soft sighs spurred him on, so he seized hold of her harder, wanting to feel her fully against him as he nibbled on her lower lip to allow him entry. She complied and he dipped his tongue into her mouth, dancing around hers, loving the feeling of how she was completely abandoning herself like this. Her heart was thundering so ferociously that he could feel it beating against his chest. He smiled smugly against her lips and grabbed her hips tightly, ramming her against the wall, and felt her moan at the back of his mouth. This tickled his throat and went straight to his groin, leaving goosebumps all the way up his arms, and he kissed her harder.

Sweet, wet humming mingled between their lips as they became more frantic, more primitive, and Roy bit her lower lip, before dragging his lips across her cheekbone and to the nape of her neck, feeling her rapid pulse caress his tongue. She let out a throaty gasp as he greedily sucked on the flesh, forcing her body roughly against the wall. His hand caressed the fabric of her dress, as he dipped it below her stomach, and lifted the hem of the skirt to go between her thighs. Her nails dug deeply into his shoulders, as she let out three fast, short breaths, "Wait. Stop..." Her voice held no conviction, and he groaned against her collarbone wanting to touch her, feel her soft skin beneath his hands. He was so close if he placed his hand a few inches lower.

"Please, this is going way too fast," she pleaded, putting her palms against his chest, making him reluctantly back away from her. He might have hit women in the past, but he was no coward like his father who had forced his mother to have sex with him. The screams were still there in his memories if he opened them. He would never force a girl against her will, where is the amusement in that anyway? You get much more from it when they actually want you too. Besides his ego would suffer if there was only one party having fun. But it didn't help that his fingers itched to touch her, wanting to feel her again, almost craving it like a breath of air.

"Why?" he asked, not bothering to hide his frustration. She hadn't had any complaints the last time he had kissed her and now she did? So what had changed? Right...the Pole...He never thought he would ever feel possessive or angry over Bekowsky because of a dame. It was beneath him, but he gritted his teeth tightly and backed away from her touch and aura, not able to help the bitter angry resentment crawling from his belly into his brain.

"Because Bekowsky likes you?" he continued, not able to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. She looked at him with her hazy eyes and turned her head away, eyebrows raised. "You're being ridiculous," she said, unnerved by his tone.

He took one step forward, insanity dragging him back to the source of it, "He likes you, and you're telling me I'm being ridiculous."

She didn't reply for a few minutes and something wavered in her eyes, so he took another short step forward. "I've just met him," she argued with a stutter, making him snort. "You think that will stop him? He will bang anyone that has a hole between its legs. He has no standards. It's Bekowsky," he continued, uttering the name like it was the most foulest thing ever.

This made her react and she said heatedly, "So by your logic, he wants me because he has no standards?" She took a step toward him and they were suddenly close to each other again. "So tell me, don't you want me if not for the same purpose?"

She managed the unmanageable and rendered him speechless. He stood there like an idiot with thin lips tightening and clenched fists.

She scoffed and said in a disappointed tone, "I didn't think so." She turned to leave, and yet he couldn't let her. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"You're not fooling anyone either, sister." Roy said fiercely, the enthralling sense of lust screwing with his head, exposing his vulnerable side.

"I don't know-" She stammered with obvious nerves.

He let out a derisive chuckle, hovering over her. "You know exactly what I mean. You let me kiss you like a strumpet and still-" Roy continued angrily before Emma snapped back.

"I don't know what I'm doing!" she shouted suddenly cutting him off. "But this isn't right," she finished in a quiet whisper after a minute's silence.

"So now your pride matters to you? I think it acted a little late."

Emma really didn't know how to respond or how she felt, and she hated that she had let herself be drawn in a second time, but the temptation had been too strong, and he drowned her senses with all that he was even when he was being a bastard. She couldn't believe herself for this irrational craving she had for him. She was messed up, in grief and had no other place to be than to be with this man that she had been told to hate and it was scaring the hell out of her when she realized the hatred was slipping away bit by bit. He was a condescending asshole, but he had still managed to reel her in.

Maybe it was because he wasn't as bad as she was led to believe. He had never laid a hand on her even if he was aggressive or during their heated arguments, he didn't verbally abuse her like she thought he would...and yet there was something beneath all of that during all of the time since the moment she had first saw him and which now had her captured because she had gotten mixed up in what she was told to feel about this sexist bastard. She tried her best to hate him, to keep away from him but it was getting harder and harder to do so. She had been hurt by what he had said to her in the lobby, and confused by how she had been so affected by his words. She was going mental. The kiss and prowess he had executed it with was making her head swim with such pleasure and it had never been this strong before.

They were really dysfunctional...

Roy was watching her with a suspicious stare, his mouth still damp from her kisses, sweat was beading on his forehead, and his body was shaking as if a cold breeze had settled around him. He didn't know how the room had suddenly dropped ten degrees or if it was his way of reacting to the painful pangs in his chest that wanted to burst out.

It angered and scared him that she had had such an effect on him, but there was also a drugging sense of relief that he didn't quite understand. Kissing and touching her was like cresting the most strange sense of serenity; while he is lost with all the shit going on around them, this was the one kind that was a good...lost. He imagined it was similar to the bliss one was supposed to feel when you know that you were going to die and had accepted it, he felt like he was.

Her smell.

Her touches.

Her kisses were killing him, taking him by surprise in areas he hadn't taken notice of before, they were moulding his brain to nothing but mush. It was torture like a potent aphrodisiac laced with despair. It made him act and think about her almost like an equal.

And that's insane, a woman your equal? The world would have to end first.

All the things that made him want to hate her all the more but they didn't feel as good or rewarding anymore. While they had not known each other for very long, their connection had started out as powerful and would probably stay that way. He had never truly felt at peace before, as he was always thinking about how he needed to make everything work out for him, not to get caught or be seen in a bad light, and those things were always with him when he was with women before. Yet, a mere touch from _her_ and he could forget everything, it was a blessing and a curse.

He was drowning in her...and it made him feel sick.

"_Stick to percentages, Roy...Get back in the game__,__"_ he told himself, not wanting to put himself on the line, not wanting to be fucking vulnerable.

He recalled when he and Phelps had investigated the Julia Randall case, and the doctor that had killed himself.

"_Broken hearts are for chumps."_ He still believed that, he needed to believe that. Because before he had joined the LAPD he had fallen head over heels for a girl, but he was still relatively innocent to the world at the age of seventeen, especially when it came to being in a relationship. While he never trusted anyone, he chose to trust that particular girl because of his teenage hormones. That same girl who tore him up completely and he vowed to himself that he would never let anyone get close to him ever again because it hurt too much and made him feel and look like an idiot. All his..._friends_ had told him you need to have a leech on a woman or they will make you miserable. But he hadn't the first time, and he had learned his lesson well from that, by never letting a broad make a fool out of him ever again. But even that girl hadn't had the same effect on him as Emma did, not by a mile.

_Cole stared at him with that look he had when __he __talk__ed__ to people during an investigation__. __"Talking from experience?"_

_"I certainly am!"_ That was the first time he had ever let a part of his personal past slip up to Cole but he had not prodded Roy for information.

She invoked these strong emotions in him that he didn't want to feel. He liked his life simple and planned like he had always had it. She was like a bad tumour that never went away, she had actually managed to challenge him in the short time that she had knew him in. This case was royally screwing with his head.

The phone rang again, and Roy broke the eye contact with Emma to pick it up.

"Are you fucking deaf, Roy?" He had completely forgotten about going to the station and looked quickly at his watch and realized it had been close to 45 minutes since Archie had last called.

"You have to admit it's easy to tune out when you talk," he replied with faux innocence.

There was a long drawn out breath at the other end of the phone and Earle thought that he had probably crossed the line. "Roy..." Archie warned.

"Can't I even finish my dinner first?" he asked sarcastically. Of course there was no dinner, but the lieutenant didn't need to know that.

"ROY!"

"Just joking, Arch, learn to take one or you will have a heart attack." And with that, Roy hung up the phone, running his hand through his hair.

The room felt so tense that if something disturbed the silence all hell would break lose. Roy cleared his throat and picked up his hat from the floor – a result from their more carnal activity. Green eyes met blue and with a snide remark, he asked, "Cat got your tongue?

He took a few affectionate strokes across his suit to straighten it, while waiting for an answer that was clearly not going to come. She looked like she was about to have a major breakdown, the way she hugged herself tightly, trying to stop the quivering shakes that were wracking her body. He shook his head. "Go pack your things, unless you want to relive the whole kissing thing again."

That seemed to bring her back into the present as she walked quietly back to her room, slamming the newly repaired door shut. Roy proceeded with the same routine, he would get nothing done here, and he didn't want to open his mind to what had just happened to him tonight.

It took them around twenty minutes until they were finally in his car, their luggage safely tucked away in the trunk. She looked like she had the first time she had sat on the passenger side. He stole glances at her, her hair falling gracefully at the touch of the wind which was blowing gently through the open window as he revved up the engine and led the car out into the city traffic. As he lit up a new cigarette from his packet, he rubbed his cheek, realizing he really needed to shave. The stubble was subtle but it was enough to know it was time that he erased it.

"Why did you join the police force?" Emma asked suddenly, which made him knit his brows together.

"Is it any of your business?" he retaliated nonchalantly, while puffing out smoke from the long drag he took from the cigarette.

"I'm just curious since you do not seem to be like...most cops." She frowned, looking out at the cityscape before her.

This made him smirk as he replied, "You would be surprised." Implying that he wasn't the only asshole in the LAPD.

"What about Cole Phelps?" she prodded, eyeing him for a reaction. He tightened the grip on the wheel as he had to force the smirk to stay on his lips. "He seemed to be decent, I've seen his face in the newspaper more than enough times to prove it, saying he beat the record moving up the carrier wagon and for solving crimes. Wasn't he also in Vice?"

He really didn't want to talk about Cole...for many reasons that nobody didn't need to know.

"Before he was stupid enough to get his ass demoted."

"Ah, yes. The scandal," she uttered sarcastically. "Elsa had said he had spent a lot of time in the Blue Room before he well… was brave enough to go to her apartment."

_"So she doesn't know that I was the one that outed Cole? Or maybe she doesn't care,"_ Roy thought.

"It was idiotic, but can't complain."

"She also said you were his partner..."

"And what difference does that make, doll?" The detective sighed, trying to keep his focus on the road.

She eyed him suspiciously. "Well, you don't seem to be too upset about the fact that you lost the bright star of the police as your partner."

"You learn quickly enough to not get attached to people in the force lady," Roy said, inhaling a long drag from his cigarette while turning a corner.

"Why are you a cop? You don't seem to give a hoot about what's going on in the world."

"Hey, someone's gotta make sure the average John and Jane Doe can stroll around without having a gun or a creep breathing down their necks." He joked cynically.

Roy didn't really have any indication that he was to start his career in the police force when he set off into the big, wide world at the tender age of sixteen. While he was street-smart, he hadn't finished his studies, nor were they really great grades as he couldn't give a fuck for algebra or history. The truth was, he had no place to stay and had to learn how to steal food or shiny jewelry to get through the day without an empty stomach. He never got caught though; otherwise he would never have been able to join the force.

He had been in a fight against three other people from Mickster's gang, which had been Bugsy Siegel's at the time when he had just started to corrupt the city with gambling, tax fraud, and Mickey had been involved in the narcotics trade.

He remembered vividly when he had finally gotten enough punches from the men hitting him while getting some of his own in too, and Siegel had been there to break it up. Long story short, Siegel took him in, intrigued by Roy, and Roy had felt the same, seeing the rich life he lived and wanted it for himself. The glorious life he could never believe was within his reach back at home. At the time Siegel had undercover cops and moles working for him, and a certain corrupt Chief of Police having deals with him. He got Roy in the force fast when he turned eighteen, only staying at patrol for two months which was ridiculously quick, before he had been moved up the ladder with a lot of input from both the DA and Chief of Police which nobody questioned even if they got jealous of Roy. Not that he minded. He ended up in Vice in less than two years, partnered with some old timer before Archie. At first it had been to cover Siegel's tracks, not getting dope led back to him or Mickey but then the trial for the Greenberg murder happened and Roy didn't have any plans moving out of Vice until he was suddenly cut off from Siegel even if he had his fair share of busting hookers and dope fiends on a daily basis, making paperwork a pain in the ass.

Nobody knew about Roy other than Siegel and when Bugsy had mentioned Roy it was under a different name, that he was someone in the police force but it was never enough for them to put two and two together and figure out it was Earle. He was very subtle and skilled enough to cover his tracks, having enough dirt on the Chief and the DA to never get known. He had never met with Mickey as Siegel didn't want any loose ends and was introduced to him years later during a dope investigation. But Roy quickly learned how to pull his own ropes, and had deals done to earn more than a satisfactory income, knowing the ins and outs and secrets of every person worth knowing in LA.

Man, he had been in the police for nine years now, almost seven in Vice and he had seen some fucked up shit in his life time which attributed to the cynicism to how he perceived the world and people around him.

They rode the rest of the trip in silence until he rolled the car into the station, muttering curse words as he saw the press outside waiting for them like vultures circling their prey. He grabbed Emma by the arm, leading her forcefully to get through the sea of cameras, while getting questions spewed at him, sensing someone had spilled the beans about their case. He put his brilliant smile on, flashing his grin at the hungry reporters as a confused Emma tried to hide her face behind Roy's back quite unsuccessfully.

"Mr. Earle. Over here!"

"Mr. Earle, how is the case going? Have you got any leads yet?"

"Boys, boys..." Roy chuckled calmly, feeling Emma's nails digging into his skin. Normally a dame would do anything to get her face in the paper, but she had surprised him yet again.

"Ms. Brent! Ms. Brent, how does it feel to be one that can bring down Jack Dragna?"

"How are you handling the fact that you're the number one on their hit list?"

She didn't answer any of their questions, trying her best to hide from the reporters as question after question was shot her way.

As they reached the stairs, Roy maneuvered her inside, effectively blocking the reporters from getting to her. He turned around with a smirk, his eyes being blinded from the flashes, enjoying the spotlight like always.

"Boys, you know as well as I do, you will get the updates when we have some to give you." He saw the Cap coming to stand next to him. "You heard him, fellows," James Donelly spoke in his calming voice, waving his arms in front of his chest, hearing the groans of disappointment from the journalists.

"I've got this under control, detective. Go to the lieutenant before he eats his own hat." Roy shot him a wry grin, nodding to him before walking into the station.

"I really hate reporters," Emma said, when Roy walked besides her.

"Didn't enjoy your ten seconds of fame huh?" he replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Most dames do."

She shot him a look of contempt. "And all women also want wear an apron, cook food like a good little wife and be a baby maker," she muttered bitterly before shaking her head as they walked up the stairs, feeling the burn of every stare from the cops in the station.

As they went inside Archie's office, Pinker, Colmyer, Galloway and...Bekowsky were already there. "_This day has already gone to hell, so it can't get any worse can it?" _Roy thought to himself. At least he could be happy seeing the cut from his punch on the side of Bekowsky's lip.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," Rusty's voice rumbled, giving Roy a scrutinizing stare.

"Then it should be your lucky day, Galloway. Don't look too happy to see me." Roy gave the homicide detective a false smile.

"You ladies finished?" Archie spoke loudly, with a hint of impatience. "Roy-" He motioned to the cop to come to the desk. "-Do you mind explaining how you missed this?"

Roy swaggered calmly to the desk, seeing pictures lying on the mahogany top.

This was from earlier today, from the scuffle in the lobby. There were pictures of him and Bekowsky fighting and Emma in the middle. He looked at the next one which was a close up of Ms. Brent's face. There were ten others just like it, until the last one which caught his eye. It seemed like the person had drew on it, marking certain parts of Emma's face and body with a red marker. He felt his lips pressing together seeing which parts had been marked. He wondered how this person had been fast enough to get the photos and have them sent to the station on the same day without getting caught or raise any suspicion.

"Ms. Brent. You don't need to be in here," the lieutenant said, seeing Emma was trying to look at the pictures as well.

"I want to stay."

"I'll take her out," Bekowsky stated smoothly, placing a hand on Emma's shoulder. She looked like she was about to argue but after a glance from the Polack she went out with a sigh, with Bekowsky's hand still on her shoulder, much to Roy's annoyance that she never fought the Pole like she did with him. She did look at him with a somewhat apologetic stare before the door closed.

Roy tried to focus on the game but mental pictures of them together were enough to make his stomach tighten and his insides feel like fire.

"These got sent earlier this evening, look at the back of the picture."

Roy turned the photograph over, and read the note, it seemed to have been written on a typewriter as well, and his face blanched a little.

_She will be mine. Her screams will be like music __to my ears before I__ send her to hell._

"Seems like more than just a coincidence doesn't it?" Archie prodded while Pinker was looking at Roy.

"I thought someone would notice if a creep was flashing his camera in an open space like this."

"You should have noticed but apparently you and Bekowsky were too busy fighting over the dame to see your surroundings like cops should. Are you getting too personally involved in this case, Roy?"

Roy shot him a bored look like Colmyer was crazy for assuming such a thing. "It's hard to resist wiping the smirk off of that Pole's mug any time of the day."

"You know they say that a picture says more than a thousand words. And in this, I think it's true. You seem genuinely upset in these pictures," Pinker added, slightly amused.

"Do I really look like a guy that gets riled up because of a broad?" Roy said with a sigh, determined to stay focused.

Archie and Pinker shared a look before turning back to Roy although looking like they didn't believe a word he had said.

"Sure seems that way. Take it from me kid, they are not worth the trouble," Rusty grunted, making Roy bite his tongue to stop from retaliating as he was already in hot water. So he settled for his shit eating grin and balled his fists together tightly.

"It's the same memo. No prints, everything's been wiped clean, although there is an irregularity. This sentence is written on a different typewriter, an old one by the looks of it," Pinker exhaled deeply with a frown. "And how many people run around with an antique like that? This font used is the same one from when the first typewriters were manufactured, and those babies are worth a lot but they are also more distinctive then the ones from today. The ink and pattern matches too."

"Why are we wasting time chasing down a lowlife that has nothing better to do then spend his evening writing this bullshit?" Galloway asked.

"Hear, hear." Roy agreed with a tense smile.

"To leave nothing at chance. If Ms. Brent gets hurt that she can't go to court, we are the ones that will look bad. Get it?" Archie responded with a tight grin of his own.

"So we need to look for an antique dealer? That's an odd one." Roy shook his head, changing the conversation.

"Not many people have one of those things lying around in their home. And those machines are fragile. Either this man knows how it all works and repaired it, or he knows enough to take good care of it for it to still last."

"We will send Galloway and Bekowsky to the factory located at Beverly street. It's closed down but there is a new shop opened up there last week so they can see if they know anything more on it or if they have a list of people that bought an antique like it in the past few weeks. Apparently they kept all the junk from their predecessors and it was the only factory in LA," Archie said.

"Is that all?" Roy asked.

"Not really. Come on, Roy, hitting a fellow officer in public is bad press. Just be happy this...lunatic didn't send it to the newspaper. We have enough crap to deal with due to someone telling the press about the case and the witness protection," Pinker said slowly while Archie nodded and the lieutenant leaned forward to Roy who challenged his stance with an intense stare. "One more failure, one more threat to make us appear in a bad light and you're off the case," Archie continued, making Galloway chuckle while he smoked his cigar.

A few days earlier that would have been music to his ears, but now it just felt hollow. Even though he did want to be rid of Emma, to get rid of the thoughts about her, he knew he would feel strangely empty if he had to return to his daily routine. And that was insane...

"You missed this man in public, taking pictures of you in a compromising situation, exposing where you live. Do you understand the severity of this if someone caught wind of it?" Archie suddenly yelled.

"What do you expect? He's too busy grinding his gear because of a dame." Roy decided he could really do this without Galloway's constant remarks which couldn't not be further away from the truth.

"Talk more like that Galloway and the term 'respect your elders' will fly out the window," Roy said smoothly, eyeing the older man, making Galloway whistle loudly.

"Can it, Earle." Archie spat.

"Talk about tension," the old bulldog added as Earle and Archie stared daggers at each other.

"You too, Galloway. You are here because you're Bekowsky's partner and have the privilege at being at our station."

"Really? I thought we were here because of the murder of Ms. Brent's friend since strangulation makes it a homicide case, or am I out of the loop?"

"And the syrettes which makes it an Ad Vice case, so stuff it."

"Guys, we're in this together just like with the Randall case," Pinker sighed, the internal war between departments never seeming to cease.

Roy chuckled, looking over at the pictures, recalling the event but he didn't remember anyone with a camera in the lobby, and those things were pretty damned hard to miss. He blamed Bekowsky for the mess.

"Did you drag my ass downtown just for the pictures, Arch?" Roy asked.

"No." Archie nodded to Pinker and Galloway, who took their cue and left the room leaving the detectives alone.

"Why are the bulldog and Pole even here?" Roy continued, annoyed about the fact that Bekowsky was still out there with Emma.

"Because they have also looked into the case files, and interrogated people concerning the Lisa Philips murder. Whether you like it or not, Roy we have to cooperate until the case goes to court."

"Do you like it, old pal?" he asked, a wry smile pushing past the corners of his lips.

Archie narrowed his eyes and shook his head, it wasn't helping that Roy curled his lips upwards into a knowing grin.

"Do you still believe that it was the mob who wrote this? It's more insidious and the intentions don't fit with what they do."

Roy clicked his tongue, and took hold of the vandalized photograph, turning it over like Phelps did with everything he could find at a crime scene. "And it sounds like it's from someone who has taken a liking to Ms. Brent. Why does this remind me of the obsessive fan letters that are sent to movie stars?"

"It gives me the heebie jeebies," Archie shuddered seeing the picture again.

"You should know that Bekowsky is more than willing to be in charge over Ms. Brent's protection," he said slowly, while he lit up a cigarette, eyeing Roy pensively.

"Then she will most likely end up dead," he snorted in response, taking a drag.

"And she won't with you, you mean?"

"I can handle this, lieutenant," Roy said calmly.

"You do understand that all of this is enough to make me put a gun to my head?" Archie sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "It's been years since we've had a case like this, witness protection, murder, dope, the whole nine yards. All of this crap because of one girl. Can you imagine that?"

"A girl with million dollar legs though," Roy corrected smugly.

Archie stood up and headed to the drawer in the corner of the room, taking out two glasses and his bottle of scotch, pouring it into the glasses quickly.

"I heard that she has an attitude. A girl with that face really ought to know her place or she will end up in the wrong crowd."

Roy chuckled with a hint of mirth in his voice, "Try telling that to her and she would probably knock you out."

"Ah, a real feminist huh?" Archie said with a slight shake of his head, uttering the words with heavy resentment. "It must be really fun for you. I remember when we were partners; you couldn't stand if a woman said one wrong word or if the hookers were too dumb. I've seen enough backhands from you to last a lifetime." It had been ages since Roy had heard Archie say anything about their partnership. He must be getting sentimental in his old age.

"Well, Cafarelli was really specific about that part. What can a man do?" Roy smirked while receiving a glass from Archie. They drank it in silence and Roy cleared his throat while stubbing out his cigarette.

"So, until the case goes to court since your location has been compromised, you need to stay at your place as the government has our hands tied when it comes to resources and income we can use."

"That's a bitch."

They got everything in order and Roy sighed, knowing that this night was far from over.


End file.
